Everything I Failed To Be
by kate04us
Summary: AU - What if Sharon got to go to law school after all? What if her life turned out to be a little more complicated than she expected? Will past indiscretions come back to haunt her?
1. Chapter 1

**Everything I Failed To Be**

 **Chapter One**

by Kate04

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" _The dance between darkness and light will always remain— the stars and the moon will always need the darkness to be seen, the darkness will just not be worth having without the moon and the stars."_

― _C. JoyBell C._

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 **A/N:** This plot bunny has been hopping around in my head for a very, very long time, and I finally got it pinned down. It is AU and delves into Sharon and Andy's past with a big "what if" at the center.

A big "thank you" once again to **RockinRobinB** for her wonderful beta!

 **Disclaimer:** Not my sandbox, not my toys. Just playing because it's fun.

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 **Time:** February 1999

Sharon dropped her bag onto the small table in the hallway, slipping out of her heels as she placed her jacket into the hallway closet. Some days were definitely not worth getting up for and it had been one of those again. From the moment she had rolled out of bed at five in the morning, her head pounding, things had gone steadily downhill. Everyone had seemed to want the impossible from her, starting with Ricky who had come to her with some forms that needed signing. Of course he'd had them for over a week, but somehow he had forgotten about them and they were due that day so could she please fill them out and sign them now? Sharon had told him once again that she would really appreciate it if he brought these things to her earlier, because she liked to actually read what she was signing and five minutes before his bus left was not an ideal time to spring this on her. He had smiled his charming smile that was completely Jack's and told her – once again – that he was sorry and that he would try to do better from now on.

His smile wasn't the only thing Richard had gotten from his father. He was a sweet, outgoing boy, who had no trouble charming everyone around him with a joke and a broad grin. He was also prone to promising the world and then struggling to keep his word. It was something they needed to work on or he would end up turning into his father.

Work had not exactly been a walk in the park, either. One of the senior partners at her law firm was about to retire and they were looking for a replacement. It had been hinted at that she was among those considered for that promotion and she really wanted it. It meant a lot of hard work, overtime, and taking even more work home with her to do after the children were asleep. She had not slept more than four hours a night in weeks and it was beginning to take a toll on her.

To make matters worse, one of their biggest clients had been especially difficult. He was known for demanding the impossible and every one of her colleagues tried to get out of having to deal with him. In addition to their client's absurd professional standards, he was also a disgustingly sexist pig, who spent a large part of their meeting trying to look down her blouse and touching her inappropriately. Every time his hand landed on her hip or _accidentally_ brushed over her butt, she told herself that she would only have to put up with it until she got that promotion. Then she would be free to tell him to behave like a decent human being in her presence if he had any interest in keeping those wandering hands of his.

As she walked into the living room to greet her kids, who were watching a movie and munching popcorn, her mind was already on the hot bath and the glass of wine she would have in a moment. Since neither Ricky nor Emily were willing to acknowledge her presence with more than a mumbled hello and, in Ricky's case, an exasperated sigh when she planted a kiss into his hair, she left them to their action film and went into the kitchen to get a glass and a bottle of chilled white wine. Even the dog ignored her and only sighed when she patted his head as she passed his bed in the hall. Grabbing her purse, which she had dropped at the bottom of the stairs when she had come in earlier, she dragged herself upstairs, already hearing the siren call of hot, lavender-scented water and soft, classical music.

Sharon padded into the master bedroom at the end of the hall and gently closed the door behind her, dropping her purse, the wine bottle, and the glass on the sideboard next to it without breaking her stride. Her eyes were set on the large, soft bed, and her muscles twitched in relief when she threw herself across it, her body sinking into the comfortable mattress. The smell of freshly washed linen surrounded her and she congratulated herself on having taken the time to change the sheets after getting up in the morning instead of putting it off until after work.

Once her initial elation wore off a little bit, she noticed that she was lying on something. It scratched the skin of her chest unpleasantly, but she could not bother to move enough to find out what it was. It felt like paper, but she figured that it would still be there in a few minutes. It was probably something Ricky or Emily hoped she would not find before they were safely asleep and she simply did not feel like dealing with anything like that.

As she contemplated having to get up in order to make it into the bathroom, she wondered if it had been such a wise decision to lie down in the first place. The idea of simply drifting off right there was very tempting. In the end, it was thoughts of waking up with a stiff back, a headache and wrinkled clothes that compelled her into action. Rolling over onto her back, she sat up and started to undo the buttons of her dark blue blouse as she struggled to her feet. She let the garment drop to the floor, her skirt joining it seconds later. Grabbing her black silk robe from the bench at the foot of the bed and the slightly crumpled envelope she had been laying on moments ago from among the rumpled sheets, she made her way into the bathroom.

Sharon placed her robe on the hook behind the door and started the water to fill the tub. She leaned her hip against the vanity and studied the letter she had taken from the bedroom. It was a plain, white envelope with her name written on it in Jack's familiar, bold scrawl. Her heart sank when she thought about what she would find once she opened it. Memories of another note like that were all too fresh, and she could not help but think back to that time when she had found her husband gone from their lives for several months, when he had left them with nothing but debt and broken hearts to chase another big win, to bury is head in another bottle of Scotch far away from his nagging wife and demanding children.

Closing her eyes for a moment, she took a deep breath, letting the warm, steamy air and the scent of her lavender bath oil soothe her, before she opened the envelope and scanned the hastily scribbled words.

 _Dear Sharon,_

 _I know what you're thinking right now. You're thinking that I'm running away again, that I'm off to get drunk and play cards somewhere, but that's not true. Well, technically I am running away, I guess. It's not about the cards this time. I swear it isn't. I guess you won't believe me, but I need you to. I did some things that maybe I shouldn't have done. I messed with the wrong people and got in over my head. I'm sorry to leave you and the kids like this, but it's better if I disappear for a while. I can't say more than this, because I don't want to drag you into this. The less you know, the better for you and the kids. I'll contact you as soon as I think it's safe._

 _Sharon, even if you don't believe me, which I guess you won't, please be careful and watch your back._

 _Love, Jack_

Sharon let her hand sink, the piece of paper dangling from her numb fingers. He had to disappear for a while? What was that supposed to mean? Was this simply another way of Jack walking out on them? Was he too much of a coward to tell her to her face that he no longer wished to be with her? And yet, she could not help but feel her skin prickle with unease at the ominous words. Something had been a little off about Jack lately. He had left early in the mornings and stayed out until late, often returning long after she was asleep. He had been nervous, trying to hide that fact beneath an additional layer of forced joviality. She had begun to grow suspicious, had kept an eye out for signs that his drinking had gotten worse or that he had started gambling again. There had been nothing concrete, except his strange behavior, and maybe she had not been as committed to getting to the bottom of it as she had liked to think. It was less painful to pretend that they were doing all right than to face the facts, and as long as she did not have the facts, she could go on pretending.

Apparently, that was over now. He had once again walked out on them, for whatever reason. Sitting down on the rim of the bathtub, she leaned forward and covered her face with her hands. Her mind immediately went to her children who were sitting downstairs, oblivious of their father's renewed absence from their lives. How would she tell them that the man who was supposed to love and protect them considered other things more important than his family, that he seemed to have such a hard time being with them? How would she make them understand that it was not their fault? She still remembered the last time he had left, when she had sat on Emily's bed and held her as she cried and asked what she had done to make Daddy hate her so much. Her own eyes filled with tears at the thought of having to put her through that again, of having to be strong for her children when her own heart was shattered once more.

In addition to that, she could not shake the feeling that there was more to Jack's ominous warning than an excuse for his leaving them. Her mind was already busy with measures that would have to be taken in order to ensure her children's safety – just in case.

Taking a bath had suddenly lost its appeal when she thought about their potential vulnerability. Instead, she decided to take a quick shower. Closing the tab, she pulled the plug and sighed, disappointed as she watched the water vanish down the drain. Going over to the shower, she turned on the water, waited for it to heat sufficiently, and stepped under the spray. She closed her eyes as the heat seeped into her tired muscles. They relaxed slightly in response and she groaned as the pounding behind her eyes eased to a bearable throb. Thinking about the wine that was still on the vanity, she considered having a glass later, after she had checked and double checked all doors and windows and made sure the children went to bed, but she discarded the idea immediately. The thought of an unknown threat that might lurk close by was enough for the pleasant buzz of a glass or two of her favorite wine to lose its appeal.

As she thought over her limited options, Sharon once again cursed Jack Raydor and the decisions that had led her to this point in her life.

 **~TBC~**


	2. Chapter 2

**Everything I Failed To Be**

 **Chapter Two**

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When things had changed, she didn't know. They had been happy, the typical American family – a loving marriage, two wonderful children, a beautiful house, good jobs and even a dog. Granted, the beginning of their marriage had been a little rocky, but once they had both found their place in the world and in their relationship, it had worked very well for a long while.

Years ago, Sharon had left her secure, sheltered East Coast home to attend UCLA, where she would first get her college degree and then attend law school. Her parents had encouraged her to explore other options, to not be too focused on law while she still had a chance to rethink her future, but she knew that her father had secretly been overjoyed to know that she had wanted to follow in his footsteps.

Then she had met Jack Raydor, a handsome, charming young man who had also been taking pre-law courses. They had connected instantly, falling head over heels in love with each other before the end of their sophomore year. A year later, they had decided to get married after they graduated. What they had not counted on was the disapproval of their parents.

After a lot of consideration of all possible consequences, they had decided to disregard their parents' negativity. In hindsight it might not have been the smartest thing to do, since they had found themselves without financial support. Looking back, Sharon was certain that, had it been absolutely necessary, their parents would have helped out. They had simply hoped to convince their children that waiting would be the better way to go. Once Sharon and Jack had decided to go through with it, the young couple had been too stubborn and maybe too proud to admit that they might have taken on a little too much or that they might need help.

It had not been easy in the beginning. After college, Jack had gotten into UCLA's law program, and Sharon had decided to join the LAPD to help pay his way through law school. She had feared that it would be just one more choice her parents would disapprove of, but she had been wrong. Her father thought it would be a useful experience for her to see that side of law enforcement before diving into the books again. He believed that the hard work in a difficult, male-dominated environment would make her stronger and teach her skills she would never learn at university, and as far as résumé builders go, that one was hard to top.

Despite the constant struggle to be accepted by her male colleagues, despite the blatant sexism she had been faced with every day, and the many long shifts, she had liked the job. It had given her the feeling of doing something useful, something that helped make the world a little better every day. Had things worked out differently, she might have been quite content doing it for the rest of her life. For a while, it had even looked as if she had to, as it had seemed more and more unlikely that she would get her chance to go to law school herself.

It had been a dark time, when Jack had spent more of his time and their money on drinking and celebrating with his fellow students than studying. When he had stayed out all night and returned in the morning, disheveled and with no recollection of what had happened. He had been too busy enjoying life to think about his responsibilities as a husband or to consider how much his behavior was hurting his wife. Sharon had been resigned to never getting her turn, and for a few short, reckless months, she had even considered leaving him. It had been a time when Jack had been particularly cold and distant towards her. She had felt betrayed, and neglected, and decidedly unloved by her husband, while another man had willingly filled that void, had reminded her what it felt like to be cherished and desired and maybe even loved.

In the end, it was not meant to be. Jack had managed to get a handle on his developing drinking problem, pass the bar and get a job, and she had left the LAPD to study law. Her daughter had been born that year, making it hard for them financially and logistically, but they had been elated. Her little girl had been so very loved, and when Ricky had come along shortly after her graduation, they could not have been happier.

They had shared many good years before things had begun to fall apart once again. It had started with small things she had hardly noticed at first. Sharon had been so busy building her career and taking care of the children that she had not paid attention. In hindsight, she knew that part of the blame for their problems lay with her. She had not been as supportive and as caring a wife and partner as she should have been. At the end of the day, once her work was done and the children's needs seen to, there simply had not been anything left for her to give to him.

Instead of talking to her, instead of trying to find a solution, Jack had turned to the bottle and the cards once again. By the time she had found out, he had been too far gone. Her attempts at fixing it, at getting him back had only achieved the opposite. Resentful of her nagging, Jack had packed his bags and left to seek his happiness and fortune in Las Vegas. He had left her to explain to their daughter that is was not her fault, that her father had not left her because he did not love her, that there were things he needed to do, things he considered more important than his family. At only nine years, Emily had thought her father to be the center of the universe. To learn that he seemed to feel differently about her had been tough. She had been inconsolable and withdrawn for weeks.

Ricky was more of a momma's boy. While he had cried over his dad's disappearance, he had gotten over it a lot faster than his sister. He had been too young to truly understand what it meant that Jack had left them. His mother had told him that daddy had to leave for a while. She had told him that he was loved very much and that everything would be all right, and he had believed her. It had been enough for him. His mommy was there, and that had been all that mattered.

A little over a year later, when his money and his luck had run out, Jack had returned to them, full of regret for what he had put them through and promises to be better. It had taken her a while to forgive him, especially considering the fact that he had taken out a second mortgage on their house without telling her. She had been forced to ask her parents for money in order to be able to hold on to the house. She would be forever grateful to them for helping out and for not telling her that they had warned her against marrying Jack.

They had been lucky that Jack had gotten a good job soon after his return, but it had still taken them years to work their way out of the worst of their debt. Trust had eventually been reestablished between them and they had moved on. Her children had been ecstatic to have their father back in their lives, which, more than anything else, made her willing to let the past go.

As she let the hot water run over her body and take a tiny part of her tension away, thinking over the last few years, Sharon wondered what she had missed this time. If there had been signs that Jack was in trouble, she had not seen them. He had been gone a lot, but his claim that he had been working on several big cases had sounded believable. She had not questioned it even for a moment.

After his last tumble off the wagon, she had vowed to pay more attention, to be more supportive, more of a partner to him. In the end, she supposed that life had happened. She had been swept away by work and motherhood once again, leaving Jack to fend for himself.

A familiar feeling of guilt gnawed at her as she stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a big, soft towel. She should have seen it coming. She should have helped him. In the end, it was futile to wonder what she could have done. Jack was gone once again, and it seemed that this time, instead of a mountain of debt, he had left them with an entirely different set of problems.

Making quick work of her evening routine and slipping into comfortable yoga pants, a t-shirt and her favorite, warm cardigan, Sharon hurried back downstairs to double check that all windows and doors were closed and locked and to talk to her children about their father's latest absence. It was definitely not how she had envisioned her evening.

 **~TBC~**


	3. Chapter 3

**Everything I Failed To Be**

 **Chapter Three**

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 **Time:** April 1999

Over the following weeks, the trio slipped back into a routine. Jack's absence was surely felt by all of them, and feelings were hurt, but it had surprisingly little impact on their daily lives. It was a sign that he had been absent a lot longer than they had realized. When Sharon thought back over the last few years, she was able to see it now. He had left early in the mornings and stayed out until late at night, sometimes only returning home long after they were all asleep. When he had been with them, he had often been distracted, always busy with something, always thinking about a case. They had gotten used to him not being with them long ago, and the fact that she only now saw it troubled her. He was her husband. She loved him, and she should have noticed.

Did she still love him, though? Or was it more habit than anything else that had kept them together? There surely was something between them. They had spent the better part of their lives together, after all. They shared children and had faced a lot together. She would never be completely free of him. However, not having had him around for the last few weeks, she did not really miss him. That thought made her unbelievably sad. It was not supposed to be that way. When they had gotten married there had been so much hope, so much love, and so many dreams.

In the end, she had no other choice than to go on with her life. Her job demanded a lot of time and energy and her children occupied whatever time she had left. She had little chance to dwell on her broken dreams between meetings, court appointments, ballet classes, and baseball practice. All the while, she kept one eye out for any potential threats. She had talked to Emily and Ricky about some safety measures like never going anywhere alone and being aware of their surroundings, and she tried to drive them to and from school and their afternoon activities as often as she could arrange. Sharon might not believe Jack's reasons for leaving them, but she was not prepared to take any risks, either.

She was almost ready to dismiss Jack's warning when, weeks after his disappearance, she still had not noticed anything out of the ordinary. That was until she was approached by a tall, elderly gentleman in front of the courthouse on her way to a hearing. He was dressed in a navy blue designer suit and wearing expensive shoes, his white hair immaculately styled. The young man who accompanied him was equally well dressed, even though he lacked the older man's sophisticated appearance. He looked more like a bodyguard than a businessman with his impressive height and broad shoulders.

Sharon had no apparent reason to be suspicious of them, but her instincts told her to be cautious. The man introduced himself as Patrick Connolly, the owner of a large car dealership and a friend of her husband. His companion was his youngest son Michael, who stood slightly behind his father without saying a word or moving a muscle apart from a barely visible nod in her direction upon being introduced.

"Mrs. Raydor, I haven't heard from your husband in a while and I'm a little concerned about his well-being. I was hoping that you could tell me where I might find him. He was helping us out with some business matters that need his urgent attention." Connolly's voice was deep and pleasantly smooth, making him sound friendly and trustworthy, but that nagging sense of suspicion was still there at the back of her mind, and she could not figure out what prompted it.

"I am terribly sorry, but I have no information about my husband's whereabouts. I have not seen him in several weeks," she replied, quickly looking at her watch to make him understand that she had an appointment she needed to get to. "I will tell him to contact you if I hear from him."

Turning towards the steps to the courthouse, Sharon was ready to leave, but a strong hand on her arm stopped her. The younger Mr. Connolly was not necessarily rough, but his grip signaled that it would be better for her not to try and shake him off. Looking around her to assess her chances of escape should the need arise, she turned back towards them, a questioning eyebrow raised impatiently.

"You don't seem to understand, Mrs. Raydor. Your husband asked me to invest in one of his … ventures … a while ago. As it turned out, that was a bad decision on my part, and since he was unable to pay me back, we agreed that he would provide legal advice to compensate me for my loss."

The way the old man spoke of their business arrangement, Sharon knew immediately that Jack had started gambling again and that the money he owed was money he had lost in a poker tournament or on the racetrack. It did not surprise her, but she still felt disappointment bubble up inside her.

"I'm sure you understand that, as a businessman, I can't afford to simply write off such a substantial sum. Your husband gave me his word to provide his services as a lawyer to my company until his debt is paid or he is able to procure the money he owes me. In my family, we take a man's word _very_ seriously. Since he seems to have gone missing, the responsibility of settling his debts now falls onto you as his wife."

Connolly paused to let the new information sink in, his piercing gaze moving up and down her body until it focused on her eyes once again. Sharon felt a shiver run down her spine. In one brief moment, he had managed to make her feel completely exposed and dirty. She was sick and tired of men putting her into that position.

Narrowing her eyes at him, she took a deep breath to hide her irritation. "Mr. Connolly, I understand your annoyance at my husband's behavior, but I am a very busy woman. I have a demanding job and two children who depend on me. There is simply no way I can help you. I'm sorry."

Once again she tried to leave, and once again she was stopped, this time by the suddenly ice cold voice of the older man. "You have two wonderful children, Mrs. Raydor. And they are so very polite. A real joy to talk to. It would be a shame if anything happened to them, don't you agree?"

A chill went through her at his words, and she felt her stomach drop in fear. At some point, this man had been close enough to her children to speak to them without her noticing. Every possible scenario of every horrible thing that could have happened to her babies went through her mind in the space of a few seconds and it made her feel sick. It also made her realize that she would have to do what they wanted for the moment – at least until she found a way out of it.

With a resigned sigh she relented, taking the business card he offered and agreed to call him later that day to discuss the details. Before she left the two men, however, Sharon warned them to stay away from her kids, feeling only slightly better when she was assured that they would not be harmed in any way as long as she cooperated.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Over the following weeks, Sharon handled some minor issues for Patrick Connelly and his automobile dealership. Most of her work was drawing up and checking contracts or attending the odd negotiation. It was neither very time-consuming nor complicated, and it did not involve anything illegal as far as she could tell. She began to relax slightly. No one had approached her children again since she had begun her little side job. After that initial meeting, she had, again, sat Ricky and Emily down and warned them about talking to strangers. She had made them promise that they would tell her if it ever happened again and was confident that they had understood how important it was to her.

The way things had turned out, Sharon felt that she would be able to continue working her two jobs and care for her kids. Mr. Connolly was very understanding when it came to her scheduling issues, allowing her to do most of her work from home and making sure that any meetings that required her presence did not interfere with her other responsibilities. She had a small, comfortable office in the back of the car dealership, but she seldom used it. It served mostly as a pick up and drop off space for the files that needed her attention. While she was treated with nothing but the utmost respect by the entire Connolly family, Sharon was still glad that she was not required to spend a lot of time around them. She had not noticed anything suspicious while dealing with them, but her instincts still told her to be careful.

The strange feeling she had about that family only intensified when, two months after she had started working for them, she got a late night call from Mr. Connolly. His older son Sean had been invited for a chat by the LAPD and had asked for an attorney. Despite her protestations that criminal law was not her area of expertise, the old man insisted on her presence.

It was with the feeling of unease that Sharon returned to Parker Center for the first time in seventeen years. Walking through the familiar halls and sharing the elevator with people who she thankfully did not recognize, she made her way to the offices of Robbery-Homicide, where her client was being held. Her mind was fully occupied trying to figure out what kind of misunderstanding Sean might have with the LAPD, and not for the first time she cursed his father's refusal to elaborate on the reason for the police officers' interest in his son.

During the hour and a half it had taken her to get dressed and drive downtown, Sharon had not once thought about the possibility of running into someone she knew from her days on the force. When she strode around the corner and into Robbery-Homicide's bullpen, her breath caught in her throat at the sight that met her. Standing in the middle of the room, clad in a dark grey, pinstriped three-piece suit, a lavender dress shirt and dark purple tie, was no other than Andrew Flynn.

At the sound of her heels on the linoleum floor he turned his head towards her, his eyes widening in recognition. He let them wander along her body, taking in her appearance before he stared at her face again. He had gotten older, she noticed. His once black hair was sprinkled with silver, and the years had left their traces on his face. He looked good, very distinguished, and it made her knees weak and her stomach flutter in a disturbingly familiar way.

Swallowing hard, Sharon forced her feet to move once again to close the distance between them, hiding her tumultuous feelings behind her professionalism. There was a reason for her presence. The sooner they dealt with that, the sooner she could return home. Before she could decide how to greet him, another man, shorter and slightly older than Andy, approached her, a grumpy expression on his face that made it hard to believe that he had smiled any time in the last decade. He eyed her with a frown before he spoke.

"You must be the moron's lawyer. About time you got here. I'm Lieutenant Provenza, this is Detective Flynn. He'll show you to the interview room. Make it quick, if you don't mind. I'd like to get home at some point," he grumbled. As he turned away, he continued much more quietly, clearly not intended for her ears. "Damn over-motivated lawyers. Who the hell sees a client at this time?"

Andy held out his arm to indicate the direction of the interview room, tilting his head and raising an eyebrow as a clear prompt to move. He looked about as surprised as she felt, his eyes never leaving her, and she could see the questions that were running through his mind. He had always been so easy to read.

His hand gently brushed against the small of her back in a way it had a hundred times before – many years ago, when they had known one another, when they had meant something to one another. The reaction, which that fleeting contact evoked, was completely unexpected. For a split second, she wanted to lean into it, to close her eyes and feel the warmth of his hand seep through her clothes, but she stopped herself at the last moment. She realized that her body remembered him even better than her mind did, trembling at the sudden flood of memories and the unwanted desire to turn around and slip her arms around him, to place her head on his chest and bury her nose in his shirt to inhale the familiar scent of him. Sharon had caught a hint of his aftershave when she had passed him. It was the same he had used years ago, the same she had helped him pick out when his wife had complained about his previous one.

It took all her strength and determination to push all these thoughts away for the moment. She would have a chance to dwell on them as soon she got her job done and left this place, and everything it meant, behind once more. Careful to keep her reaction out of her voice, she focused on the matter at hand. "So, your charming colleague failed to mention what the charges against my client are. Care to fill me in, Detective?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him roll his eyes and sigh exasperatedly. "We haven't charged the idiot with anything – yet. His girlfriend was found floating in the LA River, and we thought he could help us figure out how she got there. Before we could even introduce ourselves properly, he was already asking for his lawyer. Guess he's feeling guilty about something."

There it was, the sarcasm Andy Flynn was famous for. Pressing her lips together in an attempt to hide her smile, Sharon hummed in response, shaking her head. "Or maybe he knows that you guys have already decided that he is guilty and wants to have someone with him who can make sure that you don't screw him over," she shot back with an equally sarcastic tone. She might not be an expert on criminal law, but she did know how the system worked and, more importantly, she knew Andy Flynn. "Let me confer with my client and we will see what he has to say to you," she suggested, pausing in front of the door to the interview room.

Andy grunted, his hand resting on the doorknob. "Yeah, don't take too long. Provenza needs his beauty sleep or things will get ugly."

She gave him a stare over the rim of her glasses and pursed her lips. "Is that supposed to scare me?" Her question made him laugh and, as he pushed open the door and held it for her, he murmured his reply, low enough to make sure the man sitting at the table inside could not overhear them. "No, but it sure as hell scares me." With that, he was gone, leaving the door for the officer who had kept an eye on her client to close.

The private conference with her client went a lot faster than she had anticipated. Only five minutes later, after having made Sean repeat twice that he would stay quiet no matter what, she poked her head out of the door to let the detectives know they were ready for them. The older one, Provenza, smirked at her as if he knew something she didn't, whereas Andy seemed uncomfortable and slightly annoyed. She folded her hands on the table in front of her and looked at the two men expectantly, waiting for them to reveal what they had.

Provenza was only too eager to get started, his condescending tone grating on her resolve to stay quiet for the time being. "Okay, let's make this easy. We could have just arrested your client, but we decided to be nice and allow him to explain to us first how he thinks his girlfriend might have ended up dead in the LA River. Our evidence points clearly towards your client here, so maybe we could start with his whereabouts between three and five PM today?" He looked smug, as if he expected Sean to simply admit that he killed the young woman. He also seemed to expect her to let it happen. Sharon filed that piece of information away, intending to use it to her advantage later on. For the moment, she would play along and pretend to be as clueless as he seemed to think her to be. Casting a quick glance at Andy, she had to stop herself from smiling. He was sitting back in his chair, watching the exchange with an amused expression on his face. His eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter and curiosity at her next action. The corner of her mouth twitched slightly before she focused on the Lieutenant once again.

"My client was with his father at that time. You may contact him if you wish to verify that. We will wait right here for you to return." Sharon looked at him expectantly, knowing he would never give up that easily.

"Oh, we will certainly do that," he drawled, briefly flicking his eyes over to the ridiculously obvious mirror on the wall beside them. She was convinced that someone was already on the phone to confirm Sean's alibi.

The Lieutenant rested his elbows on the table and leaned slightly closer to her, the fake kindness in his expression almost believable. "Look, I know you're not as familiar with the way we do things here as your husband, so let me help you out. When it comes to murder cases like this one, _I was with my daddy_ is not a very good alibi. I can assure you that the evidence we have against your client will be much more convincing to the jury than the word of a man who is ass deep in organized crime. Let's make this easy on everyone. How about your client tells us how and why he killed Iris Wilson and we'll see if we can get the DDA to go for life instead of the death penalty?"

Sharon tilted her head slightly and pursed her lips, giving the impression of weighing the options before her. In truth, she was wondering what they had on Sean that made them so sure they could win this. The young man had assured her that he had not killed his girlfriend, that he had been with his father, going over some business papers. Whether or not she believed him was irrelevant for the moment. Staring at the man across from her with his air of smug superiority and his conviction that she was just some stupid little lawyer lady he could con into agreeing to a deal, Sharon decided that she would be damned if she let him win, no matter if her client deserved to go free or not.

"Hmm, maybe you're right, Lieutenant. However, before we discuss any possible deals, I would really like to see the evidence you have against my client." Leaning back in her chair, she raised her eyebrow when he frowned at her. He really had expected her to simply roll over. Smirking at him, she lifted a hand, indicating that he should go ahead. "Come on, fascinate me, Lieutenant," she challenged him, sarcasm dripping off every single word. She was done playing stupid. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Andy shifting slightly in his seat, appearing as if he wanted to rub his hands together in anticipation of the battle that was about to happen right in front of him. He wisely kept quiet, merely pushing the case file that was on the table in front of him closer to his partner. It did not seem as if the older Lieutenant noticed Andy's lack of participation. He seemed too focused on trying to get the confession he wanted.

Opening the file, Provenza sorted through some papers, stalling for time as he recovered from his surprise at her unexpected resistance. "We have a witness who saw your client with the victim only an hour before the estimated time of death," he supplied, daring her to come up with an explanation for that.

She merely grinned, shaking her head as she cast a quick look at her client, who shrugged and nodded in reply to her silent question. "Mr. Connolly never claimed that he did not see the victim prior to her death. I am sure that this is also true for quite a number of other people, however. It is hardly a smoking gun. Speaking of which, how _did_ the young lady die? I don't think you mentioned that."

Provenza grunted and narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. It was apparent that his dislike for her grew with every word she spoke, and it gave her an almost perverse sense of joy. "She was shot with a 9 millimeter. And what a coincidence that your client has such a gun registered in his name. Do you think he would mind letting us test it, or has he maybe misplaced it?"

Once more, she gazed at Sean, who, at her nod, spoke for the first time since the officers had joined them. "It's in my apartment, in the night stand. You can test it if you want, but …" Sharon cut him off with a firm grip on his arm, focusing on the two men in front of her again.

"As soon as we're done here, you can drive my client home and I am sure he will be happy to hand his weapon over to you," she offered, seeing Sean nod in agreement. "What else have you got, Lieutenant?" she enquired.

He eyed her for a long moment, and when he finally spoke again, he sounded almost giddy with excitement. "During the autopsy, evidence of recent sexual activity has been found on the victim. _Very_ recent sexual activity. I'm sure we can match the fluids we found to your client."

Sharon wondered if the implicit mentioning of bodily fluids was supposed to shock her, but she found his attempt rather amusing. "So, Iris had sex with her partner before she died. Good for her. Many people regularly have sex with their partners, Lieutenant," Her lips quivering with the urge to smile as she let her eyes wander up and down the older man in a very deliberate way. "Well, up onto a certain age, anyway," she added, her tone dry and her expression one of sympathy.

Next to the old Lieutenant, Andy Flynn started to cough violently, blindly trying to place his coffee cup on the table while he wheezed and wiped at his eyes with his free hand. Provenza, on the other hand, had turned an interesting shade of crimson and looked like a stranded fish gasping for air. She decided to take advantage of their speechlessness to wrap their meeting up, even if a small part of her was sad to see the fun end.

"The way I see it, you have absolutely nothing but circumstantial evidence that will never hold up in court. It won't even get you an arrest warrant, or you would have arrested my client hours ago. Since it is very late and some of us really should get some sleep before they become even crankier, I suggest that you find a friendly patrol officer to take my client home. He will hand over his gun for testing and promise to stay local. Once you have enough evidence to arrest him, we will chat again. Okay? Great! It was a pleasure to work with you, gentlemen." It was an effort to sound so cheerful at such a late hour, but the Lieutenant's annoyed sneer was worth it.

Rising from her chair, she gestured for her client to do the same, gently pushing him towards the door. Before they could round the table, Provenza had jumped up and stormed out of the room in a huff, leaving his chuckling partner behind, shaking his head. As they stepped back into the bullpen, Andy signaled for a uniformed officer to come over and asked him to return Mr. Connolly to his home and collect the weapon. Once the two men walked away, he turned towards Sharon with a grin. "Looks like you haven't lost your bite. I almost forgot how much fun it is to watch you do that. The suit only makes it that much hotter."

His eyes widened when he realized that he had spoken those last words out loud, and Sharon struggled against the flood of images they triggered. She absolutely did not need to think about things Andy found hot. That inevitably lead to thoughts of her own steamy fantasies, and she had no intention to go there, least of all while standing close enough to him to feel the heat radiating off his body. The exhilarating buzz of her exchange with Lieutenant Provenza was wearing off, leaving her body exhausted and her mind free to wander back to a past that was best left undisturbed. She needed to get away from him, to get back to the safety of her ordinary life, where work and her children kept her too busy to dwell on things that might have been.

She pushed her hands into her pockets and stared at his chest, unable to meet his eyes. "It was good to see you again," she lied, aware that this unexpected reunion had only served to open old wounds for both of them. "I should be going. I guess I'll hear from you about the case?" Her eyes darted up to his for a split second, before she turned around to leave. His soft words stopped her, but she kept her back to him, letting the deep, soothing rumble of his voice wash over her for a moment before she was able to focus on what he was saying.

"Well yeah, about that… There's something else we need to talk about. I don't think it's going to take very long, but maybe we should go into the conference room." He phrased it as if it were a suggestion, as if she had a choice in the matter, but she knew better. With a resigned sigh, she followed his lead, allowing him to guide her through the door into another, slightly less bleak-looking room. At least there was coffee, she mused as she sat down across from Andy and his cantankerous partner once again. It looked like she might need it.

 **~TBC~**


	4. Chapter 4

**Everything I Failed To Be**

 **Chapter Four**

* * *

 **Time:** 1978 - 1980

It was most definitely not the kind of work Sharon Raydor had imagined doing when she had accepted her college diploma the previous year. As an honor student, she had been accepted at some of the best law schools in the country. Her plan had been to graduate law school as successfully as she had college and then start an amazing career, to become a District Attorney or a judge at some point. Then she had met Jack and her plans had changed slightly.

While being a police officer had not been her dream job, it clearly beat waiting tables or tending bar. When she had signed up, she had not expected the level of misogyny and doubt in her abilities. While getting into the academy had not been a problem at all, getting through it was another matter altogether. It was certainly not about her academic abilities. She was smart and easily understood and memorized complex issues. Nor was it about physical capabilities. She had always been athletic and competitive, having played, fought and competed with her brothers on a regular bases as they grew up. Keeping up with her fellow students was no struggle for Sharon, and yet she had to work twice as hard as her male classmates in order to achieve the same grades.

Her instructors tried to prove to her that she had no place on the force, that it was too tough a job for a woman, especially _one like her_. The fact that she came from a wealthy family and that her father was a well-known lawyer on the East Coast had spread around the academy like a wild fire. Rich, white girls simply did not become cops. If they refused to stay at home to be housewives and mothers, they at least did jobs that were appropriate. She was made fun of, insulted, harassed, and challenged beyond what she thought she could deal with.

More than once, she had considered giving up. As a member of a large, Irish-Catholic family, she was equipped with a very stubborn nature, however. She would rather work herself to her grave before she quit, and she very nearly did. She had to prove herself over and over again, and was still faced with the ridicule of her male colleagues.

If she had thought things would get easier once she graduated, she had been mistaken. When it was time to be assigned a partner for her patrol duties, everyone laughed at Andy Flynn, who had been selected to ride with her. He was a few years older than her and just as much of an asshole as all the other guys. The first few weeks with him were hell, as her new partner took every opportunity to let her know how much he resented having been assigned as her keeper. Nothing had changed, except the person grading her performance. He made it almost impossible for her to do her job, taking her down at every opportunity, trying to make her lose her confidence, pushing her beyond the limits of her endurance, hoping she would screw up. Over and over again, she bit back her protests and swallowed her tears, working harder and harder every day to prove to him that she deserved to wear the uniform. None of that mattered. Andy Flynn still treated her like a little child who had accidentally ended up with the big kids. That was until she showed him that she was very capable of looking out for herself.

To air her frustrations, Sharon liked to hit the LAPD gym after work. It was not much more than a few weights and punching bags, and a boxing ring. Since she was not one for weightlifting, she chose boxing as her release. It was something her two brothers had taught her when she was younger, and she had always liked the sport. None of the guys ever approached her when she was working out, but she heard their whispers and laughs behind her back. It only made her attack the bag more vigorously.

One night, after a particularly infuriating shift with Officer Flynn, she ran into him on her way to her daily workout. He grinned at the boxing gloves she had thrown over one shoulder and told her not to get knocked on her ass by the punching bag. She wasn't sure if it was his stupid grin or the condescending tone of his voice, but before she knew what was happening, she had her hands on her hips and glared up at him. "Oh, don't worry. I can handle a punching bag," she drawled. "I guess you would know that if you weren't too much of a coward to step into the ring with me."

She realized that, in a boxing match between the two of them, she would be at a clear disadvantage, but her Irish pride made it impossible to back away once she had uttered the challenge. If she had one thing in common with Andy, it was pride, which was how they ended up in the boxing ring, facing one another. They had decided to go for a round of hand-to-hand combat training instead of boxing, a suggestion Andy might have made to avoid having to hit her. He might be a sexist pig most of the time, but he also was charmingly old-fashioned in some ways. Hitting women, no matter the circumstances, simply was not something he would do. Sharon planned to use that to her advantage.

They had drawn quite an audience by the time they were both warmed up and ready to go, and people were placing bets and cheering them on. Surprisingly enough, most of them cheered for her. Even if they did so mostly to see Flynn lose to a woman and despite their expectation for her to fail, it encouraged her, and she did not disappoint. Her opponent started out too carefully, trying to avoid hurting her. It angered her that he would go easy on her just because she was a woman, and it fueled the fire inside her. Within only a handful of moves, she had him on the floor, holding his bleeding nose, and the still growing crowd was celebrating her and making fun of Andy for getting his ass kicked by a girl.

He wanted to get up and continue, but she had gotten him good and done some serious damage to his nose. It was bleeding profusely and did not seem to stop, making her feel horrible for hitting him so hard. Taking his arm, she led him through the still cheering group of officers towards the changing rooms. He had taken off his bloodstained t-shirt and pressed it to his face to avoid making even more of a mess, and she had to admit that he was rather handsome. Andy had strong arms and wide shoulders; his muscular chest and stomach were covered by a soft fuzz of black hair, and his skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat. She had never been aware of just how attractive he was underneath his uniform and all the hostility towards her.

Pushing that thought aside, she maneuvered him into the bathroom and parked him next to the sink, before she grabbed a few paper towels and held them under cold water. She placed them at the back of his neck and held them there for a while. Once his skin had warmed them, she replaced them with a fresh bunch, then she carefully tugged his hand away from his face. The bleeding had slowed down considerably, and she started to carefully clean the dry blood off his face and neck, one gentle hand placed against his cheek to tilt his head this way and that, flinching whenever he hissed or grunted in pain.

When she was satisfied with the result, she ran her fingers over the back of his nose cautiously, trying to determine if she had managed to break it. "Ouch! Stop prodding it. That hurts," he complained when she gently pressed against the bone. She looked up at him, feeling even more terrible at the pain she saw in his eyes. She had never noticed their mesmerizing color before, dark brown like a strong, hot chocolate.

"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to hit you that hard. I don't think it's broken, though," she concluded, letting her hands drop to her sides. She cursed the fact that her workout pants didn't have any pockets to slip them into, as she fought the urge to fidget and wondered where to rest her eyes. Looking him into the eyes any longer was out of the question, as guilty as she was feeling. His bare chest or arms were an equally bad idea for an entirely different reason, and looking at the floor felt too much like surrendering, which she would never do. She might feel bad about having hurt him like that, but it was partly his fault for not taking her seriously, and a small voice inside her head kept pointing out that he deserved it.

"Yeah, my nose might not be broken, but I'm not so sure about my pride. Don't think you're off the hook though, Raydor. I might have gone easy on you today, but next time I'll wipe the floor with your skinny ass," he grumbled, but a small grin was tugging at his lips. "Come on, let's get dressed and then you can buy me a beer. I think that's the least you owe me for ruining my pretty face." Andy put an arm around her shoulders and briefly tugged her into his side, before he gave her a gentle push towards the door.

From that day on, they had become almost inseparable. They discovered that they both had a tendency towards sarcastic remarks and a similar, dry sense of humor. They also quickly learned to communicate wordlessly, with nothing more than a glance, to read one another effortlessly. They became a united front against criminals and colleagues alike, always having the other's back.

Occasionally, they had disagreements. They usually started with an exchange of biting sarcasm, which slowly increased in volume until they shouted at each other for a good while. At some point, they either ended up laughing at the ridiculous situation, or they found themselves in the gym, facing one another in the boxing ring until they had worked up a sweat and gotten rid of their frustrations.

It was one of the most rewarding friendships she had ever had, and it slowly found its way into her private life as well. They often met on their days off to watch a game together, to have a drink or spend a lazy day at the beach. Frequently, one or both or their spouses joined them. Most often it was Andy, Jack and she, however, as Amanda preferred the company of her own friends to Andy's sarcastic partner and her jovial husband.

The closer she grew to Andy, the more she enjoyed her job. It had always been meant to be temporary, but after a while she began to wonder if it had to be. Jack took longer than intended to finish law school, and at some point their friendly get-togethers stopped including him, because he was always at the library or studying with friends. She seldom commented on the fact that his study sessions seemed to include a lot of alcohol and did not bring the intended success. Instead, she focused on being the best police officer she could possibly be and filled a large part of the void her husband left by spending time with Andy. She would get her chance at fulfilling her dream eventually, but until that time, she would enjoy the work she did and the people it brought into her life.

 **~TBC~**

* * *

 **Many thanks to all of you who are still with me on this journey, who keep coming back, who leave feedback, likes, favorites, and all these wonderful things. You are all very much appreciated!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Everything I Failed To Be**

 **Chapter 5**

 **Time:** April 1999

It had been a long, exhausting night, and Sharon had never been happier to pull into the driveway of her home than she was on that early Wednesday morning. It was just after six, and she was relieved to see the light burning in the kitchen, indicating that Ricky and Emily were already up. She felt guilty for having been gone all night, but there had been no way around it.

Once Sean had left the PAB, Flynn and Provenza had asked her all sorts of questions about the work she did for the Connollys, about the people her employer did business with, about any insight she might have into where they parked their money, or about any other suspicious activity.

After several attempts on her part to get them to reveal what they were trying to achieve, Andy finally told her that they had been looking into the Connollys' family business for a while now, that they had a lot of hints, but no evidence, that they had found a handful of witnesses only to see them disappear before they could be of any use. He confirmed her suspicion that the car dealership was merely a front for a number of illegal activities, among them drug trafficking, extortion, and money laundering.

She assured them that she had no insights into that part of their business, if it even existed. She only handled their regular business dealings. They did not believe her. Or rather, Lieutenant Provenza did not believe her. Despite his partner's warnings to let it go, he pressed her for more information, cited her civic duty and threatened to arrest her for being involved with a criminal organization. He mentioned that the FBI was beginning to show interest in the case, and if they decided to take it, no one on the family's payroll would be safe.

Apparently, the old man still didn't realize that she was no clueless little boardroom girl, despite what her resume might suggest. He should have read all of it. Once she had grown tired of his threats and Andy's more careful and surprisingly diplomatic approach, she had informed them that, no matter what they claimed, they had no evidence that she was involved in or knew of any criminal activity and that they were welcome to come by her house and arrest her once they did. Then she had left.

She dragged her weary body out of the car and up the few steps onto the front porch, digging through her purse to find her keys. Once she made it inside, the unmistakable smell of slightly burned bacon greeted her, followed by the sound of her children squabbling over who had to clean the kitchen.

She slipped out of her shoes, leaving them next to the small hallway table upon which she dropped her purse and keys, before she took off her jacket as she made her way towards the noise. Ricky sounded like he was in one of his delightful moods, telling his sister in no uncertain terms that he had cooked, so there was no way he would clean the kitchen. Her son was not a morning person, and he most certainly was not a very gifted cook. He had inherited both of those traits from his father. She could imagine the state she would find her kitchen in if he had prepared breakfast.

Emily snorted. "Yeah, and if you had bothered to wait five minutes, breakfast would actually be edible. Just face it, stupid, you suck at cooking. And by the way, Mom is totally gonna kill you when she sees what you did to her pan. I suggest you fix that before she comes home."

Leaning against the wall outside the kitchen door, Sharon had a hard time breathing. The exchange currently happening over the kitchen table was nothing if not ordinary. Ricky was grumpy and moody in the mornings, which always prompted his sister to respond with heavy sarcasm. It was Emily's sarcastic side, paired with the way her brown eyes always mirrored her emotions, that reminded her most of the man who had fathered her. Sharon had known almost from the beginning, and every passing year, every time her daughter lost her temper, or glared at her, or grinned, had made it even more obvious to her.

Despite all that, she had not been prepared for the almost direct comparison. Having seen Andy earlier, after seventeen years, she was suddenly so much more aware of the striking similarities. She could deny it as much as she wanted, but it was apparent to anyone who cared to look. For sixteen years, she had not dared to look, to even think too much about the possibilities, and she had been grateful that her husband had not ever mentioned it. He must have known as well, but the way things had been between them back then, neither one of them had been in a position to place any blame on the other. They had come out of that bad period, and at the time she had believed that they were stronger because of it, that they had made their mistakes and learned from them. Jack had never treated Emily any differently than he did Ricky. If anything, he loved her even more. She was his little princess, after all.

In the end, it had not worked out. Jack had walked away and left them with his mess to clean up. Sharon was not the kind of person to dwell on the past, firmly believing that there was nothing to be gained by it. One made the best possible decisions at the time, and either it worked or one learned from the mistakes.

After seeing Andy again, she could not help but wonder, however. How would her life have turned out if they had made different choices in the past? She would never regret the life she had led. It had been good for the most part, and it had given her two wonderful children. And yet, she had turned her back on something special a long time ago. It was hard not to think about the possibilities from time to time.

Pushing away from the wall, she walked into the kitchen, clearing her throat loudly to alert her children to her presence. Ricky cringed when he saw her and threw a surreptitious glance at the frying pan that still sat on the stove. It was covered in a thick layer of charred bacon and egg remains, which still sizzled slightly as it cooled. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to yell at him for ruining her pan or laugh at Emily's very accurate assessment of Ricky's cooking skills. Pressing her lips together, she gave her son a pointed look, making it clear who would be cleaning that particular mess. When he lowered his eyes in resignation, she stepped around the table and hugged both of her kids, planting a kiss against Emily's temple and ruffling Ricky's hair, prompting an exasperated groan from him.

"You know, Mom, it's totally cool with us if you want to stay out all night to be with some guy. I mean, even people of your age need to have fun occasionally, but can you maybe write us a note or something so we won't sit here all night, worrying about you. Just a thought," Emily drawled, her eyes sparkling with barely suppressed humor and one corner of her mouth twitching towards a lopsided grin.

Shaking her head, Sharon nudged her daughter's side with her elbow, smiling at her. "Good morning to you, too, sweetheart," she shot back, her tone just as sarcastic as Emily's had been. "A client had some trouble with the police and asked me to help him out. I didn't think that it would take all night. I'm sorry for making you worry." She put her arm around Emily's shoulders and drew her into her side, resting her head against her daughter's.

"So no hot date? That's sad, Mom. We should do something about that, you know. Wouldn't want you to get out of practice. You lose your flexibility so quickly after a certain age." The last words were lost in a squeak when Sharon poked her in the side hard, right where she knew her girl was most ticklish, and she didn't release her until she was gasping for breath between shrieks.

On her other side, Ricky had jumped up from his chair, groaning loudly and throwing his hands up, face screwed up in disgust. "Oh my god, are you kidding me? You're gross, Em. Seriously gross!" With that, he dumped his empty plate into the sink and stormed out of the kitchen to get dressed, mumbling something about things people just shouldn't talk about – ever.

"Don't be cruel to your brother, honey," Sharon warned, but she could not keep the laughter out of her voice.

Emily leaned away from her slightly, pretending to consider her mother's words for a moment, before she replied in a pleading tone. "Oh, but it's so much fun and he makes it so easy." This time, they both laughed. She definitely had a point.

"Okay, I should get ready for work. I'll be done before you have to leave." Sharon left her daughter to finish her breakfast, already anticipating a long, hot shower and the large cup of coffee that would follow. Before she stepped into the hallway, Emily's call stopped her. "Mom," she said softly, sounding concerned. Sharon turned back towards her just in time to catch the troubled expression on her daughter's face, before she wrapped her arms around her and hugged her tightly.

Sharon was slightly startled by the sudden embrace, but recovered quickly, enjoying the unusual show of affection. It wasn't often that her teenaged children felt the need to hug her, so she was grateful for every single time. Burying her face in her mother's neck, Emily didn't let go for a long moment, and before she did, she whispered a quiet _I love you_ into her ear. Tightening her arms around her one last time, Sharon kissed her little girl's temple and then cupped her cheeks in both hands, giving her a tender smile. "I love you, too, baby."

The moment ended as quickly as it had come, with one last, sarcastic remark from the teenager. "You'd better go fix that situation there," she advised, gesturing at the general direction of Sharon's face and hair with one finger. "The disheveled lover look doesn't work for you, Mom. You're missing the happy glow." Lucky for her, Emily was quick enough to duck the playful punch that was aimed at her shoulder. She darted around the kitchen table to escape her mother's attempts at retaliation, giggling happily. Sharon simply shook her head, narrowing her eyes at her offspring. "You are a rotten child, Emily Raydor. I have no idea where you got that."

With those words, Sharon finally walked out, trudging up the stairs to the blessed quiet of her bedroom. Shutting the door behind her, she leaned against it, letting her eyes close for a brief moment. Oh, she did know very well where Emily had gotten her sense of humor, among so many other things. The skin at the small of her back still tingled at the memory of his all too brief touch, and she was unable to keep her thoughts from lingering on how well he had aged. Her daughter's jokes about dating did not help to keep her mind from wandering down forbidden paths. She would simply have to try and work through this, since they would surely see each other again before the Wilson case was closed. After that, she would be able to push Andy Flynn and the ghosts of her past that came with him back into a remote corner of her mind, something to occasionally remember for a fleeting moment, to lightly brush over with some fondness, before moving on. She had done it in the past, and she would do it again.

 **~TBC~**


	6. Chapter 6

**Everything I Failed To Be**

 **Chapter Six**

* * *

 **Time:** 1981

The first time he kissed her, she almost punched him in response. It was late, but they had not been ready to go home after a frustrating day. They had decided to go to the department gym to blow off some steam with a little hand-to-hand combat practice. Sharon liked practicing with Andy. He was the only one of the guys who did not go easier on her because she was a woman. Of course, he had already experienced her proficiency many times and knew that it was a mistake to underestimate her.

Maybe it was the late hour or maybe it was the horrible crime scene they had seen earlier, the images of a violently killed child burned into their minds. Maybe it was the memory of being shot at, the reminder that life was short. Whatever the reason, at some point during their exercise session, Sharon found herself on her back, Andy looming over her, holding her down. She was getting ready to throw him off when he completely surprised her by capturing her mouth in a heated kiss.

The shock of it went through her like a jolt of electricity and, with adrenaline still pumping through her system, she gave his shoulders a hard push to create enough room between them so she could flip them. Once she had him on his back, her underarm across his throat as she straddled him, she glared down at him. They were both breathing heavily, their bodies hot and sweaty, and their hearts pounding. Sharon was mesmerized by the look in his eyes, by the way they darkened as they dropped to her parted lips. The tension between them was almost unbearable. Anger at his presumptive action rolled through her in heavy waves, made her stomach flutter and a shiver run down her spine. There was also something else underneath, something darker, more troubling. It was a hunger she had never experienced before, and she tried hard to fight it, but its pull was irresistible. It was stronger than her outrage, stronger than the knowledge that it was wrong, stronger than any rational thought.

His lips were soft and warm against hers. She was falling into him, into his passionate gaze and his eager kiss, drawn deeper by the feeling of his hands sliding up and down her back in a desperate caress. When their tongues met for the very first time, it took her breath away. Sharon was unprepared for the longing and desire she felt for this man, for her partner and friend. His reaction to her was obvious, throbbing against her center. She burned for him, need blazing through her like a wildfire, taking over all her senses.

She struggled with his shirt, trying to push it up, hungry for skin. She let her hands roam over his chest, nails scratching at his skin. Andy in turn slipped his fingers into the back of her workout pants, kneading her firm cheeks and pulling her against his hardness, tearing a whimper from her throat. She was embarrassingly close to screaming her release, feeling an equal lack of control from Andy.

The sound of a locker closing drew them back into reality, the loud bang of the metal door hitting its frame echoing through the almost deserted gym. Sharon rolled off him and jumped to her feet as if she had been burned, backing off a few steps. Panting heavily, she stared at Andy as he slowly rose, turning away from her and rubbing his hands over his face. The sound of her rapid heartbeat was almost deafening in her ears as she tried to silence the desire that was still roaring through her veins. The longer she watched Andy try to do the same, the harder it became to stay away from him, to not give in to her need to kiss him again, to drag him into the shower with her. Mumbling a quick excuse, she left him standing in the middle of the room and rushed off to the showers. She needed to leave. She needed time alone to understand what had happened, and maybe then she would be able to look him in the eye the next day and not think about the softness of his lips on hers or the touch of his strong hands on her body.

The incident in the gym was not mentioned again, and both of them tried to pretend it had never happened. Things had been a little awkward for a few days, but they had moved past that eventually, returning to their easy friendship. Until they went out with a few colleagues after work a couple of months later, and somehow ended up in the back hallway of the pub, Sharon's back pressed against the wall next to the restroom door as Andy kissed her weak protest away. His hands were buried in her thick hair, her fingers curling into his shirt, holding him close.

Despite the layers of clothing that separated their bodies, and despite the sounds of people laughing and talking just around the corner, this time was even more intense than the last. Sharon felt dizzy with desire, sliding her leg up along his to get closer to him, to feel him against her throbbing core. Andy let his hand wander up and down her side, carefully inching her blouse out of her pants to sneak his hand underneath and caress the bare skin of her back. The sensation caused goosebumps to erupt all over her body and made her shiver against him.

One of the older officers slapping Andy on the shoulder as he passed them on the way to the restrooms made them jump apart. The humor in his voice when he told them to get a room was lost on both of them as they stared at one another, shocked once again by what they had done.

Rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, Andy glanced at her cautiously. "Sharon," he started quietly, "look, maybe we should…" She did not let him finish, shaking her head vigorously.

"No. We can't keep doing this, Andy. We're both married. This isn't right." Pushing herself off the wall, she took a step away from him and towards the main room of the bar. "I should go. I'll see you tomorrow." As she walked away, she heard him call her name behind her, but she ignored it, forcing herself not to look back or she might not be able to leave.

Their good intentions lasted barely a month. Sharon knew that it was a mistake to agree when Andy had asked her to go with him to the LAPD's annual charity ball, but neither one of them had anyone else to go with. Andy's wife had thrown him out a couple of months prior, put out by his long working hours and his often volatile temper. As for her own husband, Sharon seldom saw him long enough these days to ask him about anything. He was always "working", but she knew that it was not the whole story. More than once, he had returned home smelling of alcohol and cheap perfume, trying to make it to the bathroom before she got close enough to him to pick up the traitorous scent. She had lost count of the times she had asked him what was going on, if there was something they should talk about. She had never wanted for their marriage to be like that, for them to merely live under the same roof. She had tried to fix it, but at some point, she had stopped trying, wondering how long she would be able to look the other way while her husband slept around. It was difficult to call him on his cheating when she had been thinking about doing the same thing for a while, however.

Sharon had still been hurting from the last confrontation with her drunk husband when Andy had asked her, and she had not cared about the consequences – not until he had picked her up, dressed in a tuxedo and looking dangerously handsome. The way he had stared at her when she had opened the door told her that he found her cobalt blue, floor length dress equally enticing.

It was torture to feel his arms around her as he led her in one dance after the other, to smell his familiar aftershave, stronger where she buried her face in the crook of his neck. His body moving against hers made her tingle all over, hinting at what it might feel like to move together in a different, more private place.

They made it through a dozen dances and several glasses of wine before judgment left the building and they found themselves kissing against the wall of the elevator on the way to the room they had hastily secured for the night. The pleasant buzz that rushed through her with every beat of her heart was part alcohol, part desire, and Sharon had a hard time restraining herself until they reached the privacy of their room.

It was quick and intense, their unresolved desire and pent-up tension finally released in a violent explosion. It was everything she had feared it would be. It was passion, and tenderness, and so much laughter. Sharon was unable to remember when someone had last paid so much attention to her, to what she wanted and needed, to what her body craved. It was intoxicating and frighteningly addictive. As they lay next to each other, still out of breath and sweaty, hands tirelessly caressing, she knew that she would want it again, even though the guilt was already weighing her down. Her skin tingled pleasantly wherever he touched her, the feeling lingering long after his fingers had moved on.

They did not speak for a long time, both trying and failing to keep reality from destroying the remaining sensation of lightness, the carelessness that came with fulfilled desire. It would happen soon enough, once they started remembering their responsibilities, the vows they had taken, the promises they had made to another.

For a blissful hour, they dozed off in each other's arms, and when she woke to Andy's soft snoring behind her, his body spooned against her back, and his arm holding her close, she felt safe and happy. She wished that they could stay, that she did not have to return to her empty apartment with the memories of her absent husband in every room. Sharon blinked away the tears that tried to escape, swallowing her sadness and anger, and steeling herself for what she would have to say to Andy. It was the right thing to do. If only it weren't so hard.

His breathing changed as Andy shifted, briefly drawing her closer and burying his nose in her hair. His lips against her neck made her tremble with renewed hunger for his touch, but she fought the urge to turn in his arms and devour his lips. Instead, she gently lifted his hand from where it rested against her stomach and scooted to the edge of the bed to sit up. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she discretely wiped away the tears she had not been able to suppress, closing her eyes when she heard his sad sigh.

"We can't do this again, Andy. It's not right." It was difficult to speak past the ever-growing lump in her throat. The bed shifted as he climbed out from underneath the covers to join her. They sat next to each other, their bare shoulders touching lightly, eyes focused on the worn carpet in front of them.

"I know," he whispered, his voice heavy with sadness and resignation. "But why does it feel so right?" He scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. When he looked at her, his eyes were dark, pain clouding them and hiding their usual spark.

Raising her gaze to the ceiling to stem the renewed flow of tears, she shook her head. "Please don't. We need to go home, and we need to forget this ever happened." Her stomach turned at the mere thought of never letting him touch her like that again, but she ignored the feeling. She pushed her emotions into a dark corner of her heart and shut the door on them as she rose to find her clothes. Picking them up from the floor where they had been tossed in a hurry earlier, she retreated to the bathroom for some much needed solitude. It was there that she finally let her tears fall, and it was there she stayed until she heard Andy leave, the door closing with a sound of finality, which reverberated in her bones and made her slide down the door against which she had been leaning. She drew her knees up to her chin and rested her head against them, her arms drawing her legs closer to her chest. She allowed herself to feel the pain of not being able to follow her heart. She took a moment to indulge in thoughts of _what if_ and _if only_ , before she dried her tears and picked herself up again. She had made a decision to share her life with Jack Raydor years ago. She had promised him to be by his side till death do them part. As hard as that might be at that moment, and as much as she might want to be free to be with another, she would not break that promise.

 **~TBC~**


	7. Chapter 7

**Everything I Failed To Be**

 **Chapter Seven  
**

* * *

 **Time:** 18-17 May 1999

It was already late. Sharon had wanted to be home an hour ago, but she had to stop by the Connolly's offices to pick up a few files she had been asked to look at. She didn't expect anyone to be there, which suited her just fine. The entire Connolly clan, while very polite and respectful towards her, made her skin crawl and the hair at the back of her neck stand on end. She had no desire to spend more time in their presence than she absolutely had to. Besides, she was really anxious to get home, to slip into her comfortable clothes and spend time with her children. Working late always made her feel guilty, because she left Ricky and Emily to fend for themselves, relied on their friends' parents to take them to ballet classes and baseball practice, and expected them to do their homework on their own. It was a constant nagging at the back of her consciousness, something, she had learned, all working mothers had in common. She did try her best to be home early enough to check on their homework, to at least pick them up from their activities, to always be there for recitals and games, and to have dinner with them. The last thing she needed was being held up by a chatty Connolly.

When she pulled up in front of the small office building at the back of the dealership lot, she noticed a light burning in the large conference room next to her office. Determined to quickly dart in and out without drawing any attention to her presence, she climbed out of the car and quietly made her way inside and down the dimly lit hallway. The door to the conference room was slightly ajar, allowing some of the light from inside to spill into the corridor. The soft murmur of three men could be heard when she slipped into her office and, without switching on the light, picked up the pile of folders that sat on her desk and turned to leave.

Sharon had just stepped around the desk when the men next door got louder and decidedly more aggressive. She recognized the voices of the old Mr. Connolly and his son Sean. The third voice was unknown to her, but the man sounded terrified. Pausing at the door, she hid in the shadows of her dark office, almost too scared to breathe as she listened to the unfolding argument, Sharon tried to decide whether it was safer to stay hidden or attempt to leave unnoticed.

While she was still weighing her options, the unmistakable sound of fists hitting flesh reached her ears and made her flinch in sympathy. The resulting, pain-filled moans were interrupted by protestations of innocence. Apparently, the man who was currently being beaten up was suspected of having talked to the police. Mr. Connolloy calmly explained to him that there was no use denying it. They had heard him talk on the phone, they had bugged his house and phone. They saw him meet with two LAPD officers because they'd had someone following him for weeks.

Sharon eyed the phone on her desk, knowing that she should call for help, but doing so while still inside was a bad idea. She was too scared that someone might hear her. Her cell phone was in the car and she would be able to call the police from there. Slipping out of her heels, she picked them up with her free hand and hurried down the hallway towards the front door as quickly and quietly as possible. Behind her, Mr. Connolly's calm voice rose above the wailing of the poor guy who was being beaten up. "Sean, finish up here and then take the trash out. And make sure it doesn't reappear this time," he ordered. Hearing him coming closer, she moved even faster, but before she could round the corner, he called out to her, his tone cold as ice, causing her to instantly stop moving.

"Mrs. Raydor, where do you think you're running off to? Why don't you stay for a moment and have a little chat with me?" It was not a question, and Sharon didn't dare defy him. She had just witnessed what the consequences of that were. Turning towards him, she forced a smile on her face, trying to pretend that nothing was wrong, but the stony expression on his face made it pretty clear that that strategy would fail.

"Of course," she agreed, following him into his office reluctantly. The soft thud of the door closing behind her made it even harder to breathe, the heavy weight of rising panic settling on her chest. All she could think of was getting out of there in one piece, of somehow making it home to her children, who were presently at home, unprotected, in a house she had, up until a few moments ago, believed to be safe. Now she wondered if her own house might be bugged as well, and if so, how long they had been spied on.

"Mrs. Raydor, it's really good that I ran into you tonight. There was something I was meaning to discuss with you. There have been a few rather unfortunate incidences of disloyalty in this company lately. Since I'm running a family business, it hurts me deeply when my employees let themselves be bought by outsiders, especially when those outsiders are members of the LAPD. I'm trying very hard to make everyone who works for me feel at home here and protect them from any unwanted attention by the police or other forces and I would hope that, as a lawyer, you understand the importance of trust and loyalty."

He paused, staring at her expectantly. Sharon simply nodded, unable to say anything for fear that her voice would be shaking. "Very good," he went on. "I'm glad we agree. I really like working with you, and I would hate to have to find a new lawyer. It is so hard to find good ones these days." His smile was almost sincere, but it did little to make her feel better. With a decisive nod, he brought the conversation to an end, holding the door open for her and patting her on the shoulder as she passed him. "Now, hurry home to your beautiful children. Tell them I said hello. And rest assured that you and your kids will have my family's protection no matter where you go. Good night, Mrs. Raydor."

His parting words sent a chill down her spine, and she had a hard time moving towards her car. Once she had slumped into the driver's seat and closed and locked the door behind her, she let out a long, shaky breath, gripping the steering wheel with trembling, sweaty hands. For a long moment, she simply sat there, staring into the darkness, trying to decide what to do. Sharon Raydor was a lawyer, and at some point she had been a cop. Her training dictated a clear path of action. Every fiber of her being screamed for her to listen to her training. She had witnessed a crime, quite possibly a coldblooded murder. She had been threatened to keep quiet about it. This was exactly the kind of thing Andy and his partner were hoping to hear from her when they had asked her to work with them. Her testimony might bring an end to a criminal organization. Every instinct told her to give them a call. Every instinct, but one. Before anything else, Sharon was a mother. There was no way she would ever do anything to endanger her children. It had been made clear to her just a moment ago that she would be watched and that any indication that she might be cooperating with the police would have dire consequences for her and her children.

With a last weary look at the now dark building behind her, she started the car and pointed it towards home. For now, she would keep quiet. She would keep working for the Connolly's, and she would keep doing what they asked her to do. She would also keep a very close eye on Ricky and Emily and do everything in her power to protect them. Maybe at some point she would find a way to discreetly contact Andy and let him know what she had witnessed. She would not hold her breath waiting for that chance, however.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Anxiety had been weighing heavily on her for over a week, making her turn around at every corner, wondering if she was imagining the feeling of being watched. She had become paranoid about checking all the windows and doors at the house and reminded her children every morning to be careful, to stick together, to never go anywhere alone, and to always let her know when they arrived at school in the morning and got back home later in the day. They rolled their eyes and moaned about her being totally weird, but they complied, sensing that something was wrong.

Ever since that night at the car dealership she had been unable to sleep more than an hour or two at a time, frequently getting up to walk through the house, looking in on her children, checking if everything was locked, only to spend endless hours trying to fall back to sleep. She kept thinking about the poor man whose name she did not know and who had to die because he wanted to do the right thing. Guilt about not having helped him, about not having done anything at all, weighed her down, robbed her sleep, and haunted her dreams. She was exhausted and short-tempered and running on fumes, but she could not afford to stop even for a moment. She kept going, always rushing from one appointment to the next, always one eye on her phone, always looking behind her, always checking the shadows. Her muscles were aching constantly with the tension she was unable to shake, and she could not recall a time when her head had not hurt, when her eyes had not burned with fatigue, when she had not felt like jumping out of her skin at the slightest noise.

As she strode down the hallway of the courthouse on her way to the elevators, Sharon's mind was already halfway at home, focusing on everything that needed to be done there before she could turn in for the night. She was itching to get home, to lock the doors, draw the blinds and hug her children. She used to like going to work, to have a few hours each day away from being _Mom_ , from laundry and dishes, from helping with homework and negotiating chores, from enforcing bedtime and settling arguments. Sharon loved her children, and she loved being a mother with everything that entailed, but for a few hours every day she got to be someone else, someone who got recognition for what she did, and she got to interact with grownup people and talk about things other than ballet, baseball, and PTA. Now, every hour she spent away from her kids was torture, the possibility of one or both of them getting hurt was a constant presence at the back of her mind, making it hard to concentrate on anything else. More and more she felt as if she was rushing through her day to make it back to them as quickly as possible, taking as much work as she could home with her. It was exhausting and made her feel as if she failed at both her job and being a mother, because she didn't spent enough time on either.

Rounding a corner, Sharon collided with a solid, male body, startling her out of her thoughts and bringing her to a sudden stop. She barely managed to suppress a scream. It escaped in the form of a small squeak, and she tried to calm her racing heart, a hand clasped to her chest in an attempt to keep it in place.

She did not have to look up to the face of the person she had run into to know who it was. Even all these years later, despite the subtle changes age had brought to it, she still recognized the broad chest, the large hands that held her upper arms in a gentle, steadying grip. Just like weeks ago, when they had met at the police station, she felt drawn to him, her body relaxing at his closeness, leaning towards him slightly in anticipation of his arms closing around her. It was only a split second, but the familiarity shocked her almost more than the collision, and she took a step back, away from him and his touch.

The fact that Andy Flynn did not look the least bit surprised to run into her made Sharon suspicious, and she narrowed her eyes at him, waiting for him to say something, partly because she was still struggling to calm her frazzled nerves.

"Hi Sharon," he began, his gaze softening as he gave her a small smile. "I was hoping to catch you here. Your secretary told me you'd be in court today." Tugging at his earlobe, he shrugged, not even pretending to be sorry for confronting her like that. "Listen, I know you said you didn't have any information to share with us, but we could really use your help. Are you sure there isn't anything you can tell us?"

She sighed, rolling her eyes at his stubborn insistence on getting her to talk, and now she actually had something to say, something that might compel them to protect her and her children. She wanted nothing more than to tell him everything she had overheard, everything she had seen the other night, but there was no way she would take that risk. Just standing there talking to him was dangerous. She was certain that she was being watched, and every moment she was seen with him, she was endangering the lives of her children, who were at school at that very moment, without anyone to protect them.

"No, Detective, I do not have anything to tell you, and I would appreciate it if you would not ambush me like this again. You'll have to excuse me, I have to go." Her tone was cold, almost biting, her body language speaking even louder of her wish to be far away from him. Her arms were crossed in front of her and her gaze was closed off. The pleasant warmth that had spread through his body when she had collided with him, the tingling where her hand had briefly touched his chest in an attempt to regain her balance, had vanished, replaced by a familiar annoyance at her attitude. He had almost forgotten how stubborn she could be.

There was something about her, however, that made him hold back his sarcastic retort. She looked exhausted and tense, her skin pale and her shoulders slightly hunched as if they were about to crumble under an enormous burden. What caused his stomach to tighten was the haunted look in her eyes, the way they darted back and forth nervously, as if she expected someone to jump out of the shadows any moment. That was what made him reach out to catch her wrist in his hand before she could walk away. At the scathing look she directed at the offending appendage, he snatched it back just as quickly as he had placed it there, but he did not let her escape without saying what he had intended to say.

"Wait, please. Just listen to me for a moment, okay?" When she did not run off, he continued, his voice low to make sure they would not be overheard. "We've heard some chatter these last few days. One of their bookkeepers was ready to talk to us, but he vanished. I don't know what happened to him, but chances are he's floating down the LA River by now."

He saw her eyes darken with fear before she once again looked around nervously. "I get that you don't want to help us, but please be careful. These people aren't messing around. They aren't amateurs, and they won't hesitate to get you out of the way if they think you're a problem."

She was trying hard to look as if she didn't care, and she was almost successful, her dismissive tone matching her expression. "Thank you for your concern, but I can take care of myself," she shot back.

His genuine laugh at her reply obviously surprised her, a questioning eyebrow lifting at his reaction. "Oh, trust me, I know you can take care of yourself. You sure as hell kicked my ass enough times for me to remember that. The thing is, though, you don't have to. Let me help you." His last words were spoken quietly, and he had to fight his impulse to step closer to her, to wrap his arms around her and shield her from anyone who might want to harm her.

Her eyes were suspiciously bright, and she shook her head, taking a step away from him. "Andy, please don't. I can't," she whispered, pleading with him to leave it alone, to let her go. If he'd had any doubt before, he was certain now that she was scared. She knew something, but she didn't dare speak about it. If that was the case, a public location like the courthouse was not the ideal place to push her.

Briefly slipping his hands into his pockets, he nodded, studying his shoes for a moment before looking at her once again. He reached out to touch her shoulder, letting his hand slide down her arm until he clasped her small hand in his. It was ice cold, and he wished he could warm it for her, rubbing her fingers between his palms. Instead, he waited for her to notice the small, rectangular item pressed against her skin. When she closed her fingers around it, he squeezed her hand one last time, giving her a small smile. "Okay," he rasped, "Just watch your back. And if it gets too much, I'll only be one phone call away. I'll always be there for you."

Sharon nodded, a wobbly smile tugging at her lips before she turned to leave. For a moment, he believed that he had imagined the lone tear that had rolled down her cheek, but as she walked down the hallway, one hand quickly wiped at her face. Letting her leave was the hardest thing he had ever done, and it definitely did not get easier with practice. The last time he had watched her walk away from him, crying, he had expected to see her again at work the next day. He had known then that it was a mistake to let her go, just as he knew it now, but this time he had the unsettling feeling that he might never see her again.

 **~TBC~**


	8. Chapter 8

**Everything I Failed To Be**

 **Chapter Eight**

* * *

 **Time:** 27 May 1999

Sharon pulled up at St. Joseph's to pick up her kids from school. Despite having been held up by Andy, she was a little early. Sitting in the quiet car, her eyes on the buildings beyond the large parking lot, she was unable to keep her mind from going back to her accidental meeting with Andy. It did not surprise her that he thought it necessary to caution her about her involvement with the Connolly family, but what he had said about witnesses going missing did increase her general sense of anxiety. On a rational level, she knew that the man Sean and his father had questioned a few days ago had not survived the ordeal, but to hear it mentioned in such a matter of fact way made it even more real, as if she needed that.

Ever since that night, she had been haunted by dreams about the faceless man. She saw his bruised and bloody body, heard him beg for help. Sometimes he accused her of being a coward, of having run away when she should have helped him. The worst nights were those when the man wasn't faceless, when she would look from the broken body into the familiar face of her husband. Those were the nights when she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep again. She would sit on the porch and stare into the night, wishing Jack would at least call to let them know he was okay. She would cry for him, for the faceless man and the guilt she felt over having failed him. She would shed tears for her children and for the sense of security they all had lost. With the break of dawn, she would wipe away her tears, put on a smile and start her day, never letting her children or anyone else see how much she was hurting and how close to breaking under the pressure she really was.

She could feel the darkness of guilt and fear close in on her once again. The car was suddenly too small, the air inside feeling too thick to breathe. Being idle was something she was trying hard to avoid these days, as it left her time to think, and with thinking always came the almost paralyzing sense of anxiety.

Unable to stand the quiet of the confined space any longer, she decided to step out and get some fresh air for a little while. Moving around would also give her a good opportunity to keep an eye out for whoever was following her. Over the last days she had spotted several different men keeping an eye on her wherever she went. They weren't amateurs and made it hard for her to identify them, but she knew what she was looking for, something most of them were not prepared for. Even when she had laid eyes on her tail, she never showed that she realized she was being followed. It was difficult to keep up the pretense when she felt her skin prickle with the sensation of being watched, when she was constantly aware of eyes and ears being on her at all hours.

As she walked across the parking lot towards the school grounds, she noticed several men sitting in their cars or standing around, but most of them appeared to be fathers, waiting to pick up their children. By the time she had made it to the path leading up to the church building, she had narrowed it down to two suspects, both of whom were wandering in the same direction. Pondering her next move, Sharon kept walking towards the large double doors, gravel crunching underneath her feet with every step.

She enjoyed the warmth of the afternoon sun on her skin, but something was pulling at her, a need she had not felt in a very long time, compelling her to enter the cold, dark building. Sharon had grown up in a Catholic family and had held on to her faith all her life. Whenever possible, she found the time to attend mass, feeling bad about not being more involved in the every day activities of her parish. And yet, it had been a while since she had last felt a true passion about it. She was unable to recall when she had last entered a church out of something other than habit and a sense of duty.

Finding an empty pew in the back, she sat down for a moment and allowed her mind to calm down and the constant chatter inside her head to quiet. Apart from the priest who occasionally walked back and forth in the front, silently going about his business, she was completely alone. It was a feeling she savored more than she thought possible, and for the first time in months she felt a sense of peace settle over her soul. Her eyes drifted over to the confessional on the other side of the church, and she thought that it might feel good to talk to someone about everything that was weighing her down. It usually left her feeling lighter and helped her sort through her problems and concerns. This time, however, it might not be wise, considering that someone had most likely followed her to the door and might enter the church at any time to find out what she was doing. If they overheard her talking about the things she had witnessed, she would not just put herself and her children in danger, but the priest as well. It would be selfish of her to risk that simply to alleviate her guilt.

Instead, she slid off the bench and kneeled, her hands folded in front of her and her head bent over them. She let her eyes close and reached out with her mind towards an open, loving ear. She placed her burdens in front of her and asked for help carrying them, for guidance and the wisdom to make the right choices for her children's sake. She prayed for the soul of the man whose murder she had witnessed and for the people who had loved him, and for forgiveness for her failure to prevent the murder and for lacking the courage to speak up, for risking other people's lives to protect her family and herself. Then she simply waited, listened into the silence, reflected on her actions and their consequences, considering all possible roads ahead of her.

It was the muted sound of hundreds of children leaving the adjacent school buildings, laughing, shouting, and chatting that drew her out of the restful quiet of her mind and back into reality several minutes later. Slowly rising to her feet, she walked out of the church, casting one last glance towards the altar. Her eyes were drawn to the wooden statue of the Virgin Mary, and they lingered on the serene expression with which she gazed upon her child. She had seen it countless times, but for some reason it touched something inside her heart this time. The burden she was carrying suddenly felt lighter. She still felt guilt, and fear, and helplessness, but somewhere in all of that chaos and madness was also hope. For what exactly, she didn't know, just as she had no idea what it all meant or how it would help her deal with the situation. All she knew was that it felt just a little bit better.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

It was almost seven by the time they made it home. Ricky had mentioned that he needed new shoes for baseball, because his were getting too small and they were hurting his toes, so they had stopped on their way home to take care of that. To appease Emily, who had made sure they knew how much she disliked having to tag along, they had picked up pizza for dinner. It suited Sharon just fine that she wouldn't have to cook. She still had to deal with that enormous, never-ending pile of laundry, and at some point she should also clean the house. There was a time when she would vacuum clean at least every other day, because the dog hair bothered her too much. Lately, she was happy when she got around to it once a week. Her neglected household and the increased number of takeout dinners they were having were just more reason to feel guilty. When had her life started to get so complicated?

Having sent her kids to clean up before dinner, she checked all the doors and windows on the ground floor, before she walked upstairs to change out of her work clothes and figure out where the source of all the dog hair in her house was. Usually, he would already be waiting for them at the front door, excitedly wagging his tail at the prospect of someone taking him out and playing with him. That was, unless she had forgotten to close her bedroom door. The little pest loved nothing more than stretching out on her bed, enjoying the quiet and comfort just as much as herself. He also knew very well that he was not allowed to be there, which of course meant that he used every opportunity to sneak inside. Whenever she caught him, he would look up at her with this adorably guilty expression and tilted head. She could never really be angry with him, even if it meant washing the bedspread. That was most definitely something she did not want to do tonight, so she resolved to let him feel her displeasure this time.

When she stepped into her room, her eyes immediately landed on the large pile of brown fur curled up in the middle of her bed. Oscar was an enormous, ugly, but incredibly adorable brown mutt. They had found him five years ago, going through a dumpster close to Emily's ballet school, and her daughter had fallen in love with his big, brown eyes right away. He had been dirty and smelly, mud and small twigs caught in his fur. Reluctantly, she had agreed to take him to the vet, and somehow, she still wasn't entirely sure how, he had ended up going home with them and had become a part of their family. She liked to grumble about him, about the dirt he carried into the house, about his smell and the hair that was everywhere, about always ending up to be the one to take him for a walk, and about carrying mountains of dog food into the house once a month. And yet, this odd-looking little creature that she had named Oscar, because he had lived in a garbage can, had wormed his way into her heart.

Despite her unexpected fondness for him, she was highly irritated by his presence in her room. Sharon raised her voice and clapped her hands once to get his attention. "Oscar! Get out!" she yelled, frowning when he failed to move or even so much as twitch his ear. He could be incredibly stubborn, something that definitely made him fit into their family, she mused as she sat down on the edge of the bed to nudge him. For a brief moment, she thought how nice it would be to simply curl up next to him and fall asleep, but he needed to be walked and her children were waiting for her to eat dinner with them, not to mention all the chores that were still awaiting her. "Come on, buddy. Time to get up." Gently tugging one of his floppy ears the way he liked, before she let her hand slip to his neck to scratch him, she was startled when her fingers encountered something wet. Snatching her hand back, she gasped in surprise and jumped off the bed, quickly backing towards the door, her gaze on the blood that coated her hand, the other one clasped to her mouth to keep in the scream that wanted to escape.

It took a moment for her brain to kick back in. When it did, she noticed the sheet of paper that rested next to Oscar's body, and she reluctantly inched closer to the bed to look at it. Only seven words were scrawled on it in large, bold letters.

 _Imagine if this wasn't just your dog._

Her eyes widened in shock as she realized that someone had gotten into her locked home and murdered an innocent animal for no other reason than to send her a warning. What else would a person like that be capable of? Andy had been right when he said that these people didn't mess around, and they were clearly worried about her loyalty.

She stared at the note for a long moment as she wiped her trembling hands on her skirt in an attempt to get the blood off of them. The cruel words taunted her, standing out on the white paper, already burned into her mind. Her instincts told her to grab it, to hold it, in order to be sure that it was real. It was common sense and her training that kept her from picking it up to avoid getting her fingerprints on it.

They needed to leave. The house she had always thought of as her haven was no longer safe. Someone had gotten inside despite her precautions, and nothing would prevent them from doing it again, possibly when her children were home.

Sharon hurried over to the closet, ripped her soiled clothes off and replaced them with a pair of jeans and a sweater. Despite wanting nothing more than to get her children to safety, she decided that scaring them with her bloody clothes would not be a good idea. Once she was changed, she tore the small suitcase from the top shelf and started tossing items into it. She wouldn't take much, just enough for a couple of days, until they could figure out what to do. There was no time for more. She didn't think, simply dumped clothes inside before she moved on – first to Ricky's room, then Emily's and finally the bathroom, collecting more clothes and necessities until nothing else would fit inside anymore. Zipping it up, she only paused long enough to wash her hands before she dragged the luggage downstairs, already yelling at the kids to grab their school bags and get going.

Both of her kids started complaining at the same time, making her head spin even more.

"But Mom, we just got home," shouted Emily angrily.

"What about the pizza? We haven't even finished dinner?" whined Ricky around a mouth full of food.

Sharon dropped the suitcase in the kitchen, right next to the backdoor that lead into the garage. Ever since that night she had witnessed the murder, Sharon had taken to parking the car in the garage instead of the drive. The protection of the garage around her, when she got into and out of the house, gave her the illusion of safety, even if she knew that it was nothing more than that.

"I don't want you to argue with me. Get your things and let's go. Right now!" She knew that they would do what she said. They always did when she used that particular tone with them, because they had repeatedly experienced the consequences of not complying.

"We have to take Oscar, too. He can't stay here, Mom." Emily sounded scared as she got up to fetch her backpack. She knew that something was very wrong. Ricky seemed much less concerned. He had always been a little oblivious and more than happy to let others do the worrying while he had a good time. He took the schoolbag that his sister tossed at him and grabbed a slice of pizza on the way to the door, waiting for his mother and sister to join him before he opened it. It was something Sharon had drilled into them when she had first begun to grow suspicious of the mess her husband had gotten them into. Don't leave the house alone. Don't stand outside unless you have to. Stay together. Never walk anywhere alone. It went on and on, and Sharon hated that she had to ask her kids to be suspicious of everything and everyone. She had never wanted to be one of those mothers who saw evil behind every corner and every hedge, even if her first job made it easy. All that had changed when Jack had left them with an ominous warning and more problems than she had ever thought possible.

"I'm sorry, honey, but Oscar can't come with us. I'll get someone to take care of him," she tried to calm her daughter's worries. There was no way she was going to tell her the truth right at that moment, but she would not lie to her, either. Emily seemed doubtful, but she reluctantly moved to join her brother at the door and let Sharon usher them out into the garage and towards the car.

When they were all settled in the car with their luggage stowed away in the trunk, Sharon hesitated a moment before opening the garage door. Where should they go? The most logical answer would be the police. They had offered protection in exchange for her help. The problem was that she didn't trust them. Her issue was not with the investigating detectives. It was with all the other people that would see them there, with being among a large group of strangers.

There were very few options. She could drive to Santa Monica and ask Jack's brother if they could stay there for a while, but that would only serve to endanger him and his family, too. The same was true for her sister in Oregon, even if she felt awake enough to drive through the night to get there. Taking a plane to Boston to get to her parents was out of the question, both for financial and practical reasons. That really only left one option.

The slightly creased business card was still sitting inside the cup holder she seldom used for anything but storing little items she meant to take to the trash on her way inside. She had put it there earlier today, after she had run into Andy Flynn at the courthouse, still undecided about what she wanted to do with it. Picking it up, she stared at it for a moment, her gaze caressing the familiar name. Despite their past and despite all the unresolved feelings that might still linger between them, Andy was the only one in all of this she felt comfortable relying on. If there was one person whom she would entrust with her children's lives, it was Andy Flynn.

Hitting the remote to open the garage door, Sharon backed out of the drive and pointed her car towards the address on Andy's private business card. She kept an eye out for her shadow and spotted them following at a slight distance. Thankfully, the streets were still quite busy. The other cars provided some protection, as they would deter Connolly's goons from doing anything to them. At least that was her hope. She wouldn't be able to breathe easily until the moment they were safely inside Andy's house, if at all. In the meantime, her children had overcome their surprise about the unexpected departure from their home and started asking questions. She was not willing to tell them everything just yet, not while driving and being unable to comfort them, but she was at least able to reassure them that they were going somewhere safe.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

It wasn't exactly too late for visitors, but Andy Flynn was still surprised when someone rang his doorbell. By the sound of it, they were trying to aggravate him into punching them. "All right, all right, I heard you the first time," he yelled as he made his way to the door. He ripped it open and scowled at the person on the other side. The moment he realized who it was, his irritation vanished, making room for confusion and concern.

Sharon looked even more pale and drawn than she had earlier that day, if that was at all possible. Her eyes were wide and nervously darted towards the street several times, once again looking for an invisible threat, he thought. It was subtle, but he noticed how her body was angled slightly to shield her children from whomever she suspected to be out there. The girl looked spooked, her arms crossed in front of her, and her brown eyes bright with fear as she stood close to her mother. The boy on the other hand seemed to have a hard time keeping his disapproval of the situation to himself. His hands were shoved into his pockets and his face was all teenaged outrage. He stared at the floor, the unruly mop of dark hair falling over his eyes.

"Can we come in, please?" Her quiet, pleading words startled him out of his surprise, and he stepped to the side to make room for them to enter. Before he closed the door, he cast one more glance down his driveway to the street. There was an unfamiliar, dark blue Taurus parked at the curb, and he thought that he saw movement inside it, but it was too dark to be sure. With an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach, Andy closed and locked the door and turned towards his guests.

They all stood in the small, brightly lit hallway for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. The light made it even easier for him to see the traces stress and fear had left on Sharon's face and in the way she held her body. He also took the chance to study her kids more closely. The boy looked a lot like his father with that pout and the sloppy posture of protest. He almost expected his mother to call him on it, but she was clearly too distracted to worry about that. He was tall for his age and his long, muscular limbs were very different from his father's more stocky build. Andy supposed that the boy took after Sharon's family in that regard. He had once met one of her brothers, a tall, athletic guy with too much brown hair and dark eyes.

The girl wasn't short, but she was tiny, even skinnier than her mother had been when he had first met her. From what he could see under that hideous school uniform, however, she was not just skin and bones; she seemed to have a lot of muscles. Andy wondered what kind of sport she was into, before he shook himself out of his musings, trying to decide how to move them all past the awkwardness.

Forcing the frown off his forehead, he let a little bit of the charm everyone accused him of spreading too liberally seep into his voice, even if he didn't really feel it. Not with the knowledge that someone was out there, trying to harm his unexpected guests. "Hi, I'm Andy. I used to work with your mom a long time ago, but I guess she told you that already."

The girl nodded, extending a shy hand in greeting. "Yes, she did. I'm Emily and that one," she pointed at her brother in a dismissive gesture, "is Ricky." It was clear from her tone that she would rather have crawled into a corner and ignored him, but her manners had won over her shyness. The same could not be said about Ricky. The boy glanced up for a mere second to acknowledge the older man, before he stared at his sneakers once again, his mumbled greeting barely audible. Andy met Sharon's gaze, shrugging at the lack of enthusiasm. He got it. The kid had no idea where he was and what was happening, but to admit to being scared was close to impossible for a boy his age.

"Hey kids, I'm sure your mom has rules about watching TV at this time, but she's out of her jurisdiction here. Why don't I show you to the living room and we check if there's something on TV that you'd be interested in." He started down the short hallway, motioning for them to follow and was relieved when, after a quick glance at their mother, they went without protest. Once the kids were settled, he would find out what exactly had happened.

Andy led Ricky and Emily into the large living room at the back of the house, telling them to make themselves comfortable on the big, black leather sofa. It was soft, with a high back and two very cozy corners to curl into. His ex-wife had hated it, because of its size and color. She had always complained that the _monstrosity_ , as she liked to call it, took up most of the room and made it appear like a bachelor's pad. That was exactly what his living room looked like. The furniture was dark, and the shelves held nothing but a few books and videotapes, as well as the two photos he had of his kids. He always meant to decorate it some more, but there was really no point. He seldom had anyone over who minded. His partner surely didn't, and if his dates went further than dinner, he was not in the habit of bringing the lady in question into his house. As he thought about it, Andy realized that Sharon was the first woman to visit him in the two years he'd had this house. He just wished that it were under more pleasant circumstances.

After getting the children settled with the remote control, Andy discreetly checked the backdoor and living room windows to make sure they were properly closed. He also drew the curtains, so no one would be able to look inside. Then he turned to leave the teenagers to their movie and attend to their mother, who was watching him from the door. "Your mom and I will be in the kitchen to talk for a bit. Holler if you need anything, okay? I'll bring you something to drink in a moment," he tossed over his shoulder before he left the room, gesturing for Sharon to precede him.

"I'm so sorry for showing up like this, but I didn't know where else to go," she apologized once they made it into the large, airy kitchen. It was his favorite place in the house, designed for the family meals he had always wanted but never managed to host. His kids were not interested in spending time with him, so the whole house often felt too big and too quiet. That would probably not be the case tonight, he mused as he turned towards the sink.

"Don't worry about it. I told you that I'd be there for you and I meant it. Come on, let's make some tea and you can tell me what happened." He filled the kettle and put it on the stove. He busied himself with finding two cups and the herbal tea he had bought a while ago because an acquaintance from AA had recommended it for its calming effect. Deliberately taking his time, Andy waited for Sharon to speak, remembering that it was not a good idea to pressure her into opening up. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shift, her hands nervously fidgeting in front of her as she stared at the floor. He had never known Sharon Raydor to be insecure, but that was exactly how she seemed to him at that moment.

"They are following me. I thought I could handle it, but today someone broke into our house. I don't know how they got in. It was locked down when we left in the morning, and I didn't see any obvious signs of forced entry anywhere." She paused her quiet account of what had brought her to his door. Her tone was almost devoid of emotion, and she might have fooled anyone else, but Andy still knew her enough to be able to pick up on the very subtle tremor, the effort it took her to force the words out.

He had already suspected that Connolly had someone keep an eye on her, both from what they had come across during their investigation and from her behavior earlier that day. If he wanted to help her, he needed more information, however. Careful not to look at her and to keep his voice as neutral and non-threatening as possible, he prompted her to keep talking. "How do you know? Did they take anything?"

"No," she started, her voice breaking. "There was nothing out of place anywhere, except…" Once again, her voice gave out and she cleared it before she went on. "Our dog… Someone killed him and they left a note on my bed, right next to him."

He turned around to face her, shocked by her words, and aching for her when he saw the silent tears that ran down her cheeks. His first impulse was to close the short distance between them and wrap his arms around her, to hold her and allow her to cry on his shoulder, but they were not that close anymore. He didn't think that she would welcome that sort of closeness from him. A part of him wanted to hope that her showing up at his door meant something, that what they had shared so many years ago was not completely lost, but he realized that it wouldn't be that easy. They had made a choice, and they had lived with that choice for seventeen years. Life had changed them. To assume that they could pick up where they had left off was unrealistic.

Deciding that, for the moment, it would help both of them to focus on the facts, he picked up one of the steaming teacups from the counter behind him and passed it over to her. Their fingers touched when she took hold of the cup, and he let them linger for a short moment, trying to give as much comfort as such a small gesture could. "What did the note say?" Andy looked at her over the rim of his own cup, watching as she inhaled the fragrant steam and closed her eyes as she took the first careful sip, savoring the strong flavor.

Sharon's eyes remained closed as she lowered the cup and took a shaky breath. "Imagine if this wasn't just your dog," she whispered, before she slowly raised her gaze to meet his. She looked absolutely terrified, her eyes dark with fright and shining with the tears that kept falling. He had never seen her like this, so scared and helpless. He could only imagine what she must feel, having to trust someone else to help her protect her children.

He couldn't afford to linger on those thoughts, however. Someone was out there, intending to harm Sharon and her kids, and he would be damned if he let them. Telling Sharon to sit down at the kitchen table for a moment, he grabbed two cans of soda from the fridge, ignoring her disapproving look, and made his way into the living room. He put the cans on the glass surface of the small coffee table in front of the kids, picked up the phone from the cushion next to Ricky, and continued into his small office at the front of the house, directly opposite of the kitchen. While he dialed his partner's number, Andy opened the safe at the far wall and retrieved his spare gun and holster, and some ammunition. The phone held between his shoulder and ear, he loaded the weapon with practiced ease as he filled in a grumpy, barely awake Provenza on what had happened, making sure that a team would go to Sharon's house and secure whatever evidence they would be able to find. He also requested reinforcements to come to his place, because with Sharon being here, in his house, Connolly and his men would expect her to talk, and they would want to prevent that at all costs. There was only so much Andy could do on his own.

With Provenza's promise to set things in motion and to be there as soon as he could, Andy hung up and went back to the kitchen, picking up his own gun where he had left it in the drawer of the sideboard in the hallway. Sharon sat exactly where he had left her, the cup clutched between her hands as if holding on to it would help keep her afloat in this sea of chaos. Holding out his spare weapon for her to grab, he tilted his head, allowing a teasing note to slip into his voice. "You still know how to handle one of those?"

Sharon's lips curled slightly in that way that was supposed to tell him that he was being an idiot. "I can still outshoot you, if that's what you want to know," she drawled, taking the gun from him, checking the clip to see if it was loaded and clipping the holster to the waistband of her jeans, carefully arranging her sweater over it to hide it from view. It made him feel better to see that she had recovered her composure somewhat, her cheeks dry and her shoulders straightened once more.

Offering his hand, he was glad when she took it and allowed him to help her up from the bench and didn't pull away once she was on her feet in front of him. "Come on, let's see what kind of trouble your brood has gotten into," he suggested, gently tugging on her hand as he stepped towards the door. "We'll have to figure out sleeping arrangements, too. There are two guest rooms upstairs and you can sleep in my bed." He grinned when she stopped in her tracks and turned around to stare at him before he went on to clarify. "I'll be sleeping in the office. The couch in there folds out, and I'll feel better being close to the door, just in case."

Sharon nodded, placing her right hand on his chest, her eyes once more shining with fresh tears. "Thank you, Andy. I mean it. I truly appreciate everything you're doing for us." She looked over her shoulder into the living room where Ricky and Emily were engrossed in an action movie she probably would never let them watch before bedtime under normal circumstances.

With a soft sigh, she returned her gaze to him, the sadness in it causing the breath to catch in his throat. "How do I tell them that someone killed their dog, Andy?" Her voice was nothing more than a broken whisper and it broke his heart to see her hurting so much. "He was just a dog. He never hurt anyone and they killed him. They killed..." The last word was lost in a sob when the iron grip she had on her emotions finally slipped. It was testament to the ordeal she must have been through recently that she allowed him to witness her break. She had never been a fan of being too emotional in front of people, even those she was close to.

Andy might have hesitated before, but as he watched Sharon crumble in front of him, he simply reached out and gently pulled her against his chest. His arms slipped around her carefully, giving her a chance to pull away if she wanted to, before he tugged her closer, his hands stroking her back in slow, soothing circles. Her hands curled into his shirt, holding onto him with a death grip, her head resting against his shoulder. Her slight body trembled in his arms, almost soundless sobs shaking her for long moments. He had no idea what to do, except hold her for as long as she needed and promising her to help her fix the mess she was in. Andy was grateful that she even let him do that much, that she allowed him to comfort her, and that she felt safe enough with him to lean onto him. For the moment it had to be enough. They would figure out everything else in the coming days.

 **~TBC~**


	9. Chapter 9

**Everything I Failed To Be**

 **Chapter Nine**

 **Time:** August 1982

Sharon sat in her car and stared at the slightly run down apartment building she had parked in front of. It was a sad, depressing place, paint coming off the weathered, wooden walls in large flakes, the metal stairs that lead to the second and third floor rusty and barely safe for walking on. The units did not look much better from the inside, she knew. And yet, it was inside one of these small, dark apartments that she had found more warmth, and love, and joy than in her own small, but much more luxurious home. In fact, it had stopped feeling like a home months ago, when all she had found there had been either loneliness or a drunk, distracted, and distant husband who found fault with everything she did or said.

Despite her resolve to keep her distance from Andy after that night at the hotel more than half a year before, she had turned to him to fill the void Jack had left in her life. As Andy's attempts to save his own marriage had been unsuccessful, he had held on to her just has tightly as she to him. Sharon realized that they were both going for the easier way; that giving up on their spouses and giving in to each other was nothing more than a cowardly escape from reality, but she was sick of fighting that fight. Unless Jack decided to at least try and help her, she would never win, so what was the point?

Only an hour earlier, she had come home to find an intoxicated Jack eating a burger while sitting on their brand new sofa. The kitchen had looked like it had been raided by a horde of hungry frat boys, and even from the door she had been able to see crumbs, and lettuce, and greasy fries scattered all over the beige fabric and the floor around Jack's feet. She had come off an endless, emotionally taxing double shift and wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower and fall into bed. Instead, she had tried to make Jack understand why his behavior angered her. His reaction had been insults hurled at her as his plate had landed on the upholstery next to him. They had fought before, but that time had been worse than usual. Sharon had never had reason to fear for her safety with Jack, but his verbal abuse hit her just as hard as his fists would have. She usually ended their arguments by locking herself in the bedroom, making clear that he would be spending the night on the couch. When she had locked the door behind her this time, tears running down her cheeks, part anger and part pain, her sanctuary had seemed too small, the walls closing in on her, suffocating her. She had packed a small bag with the most essential things and walked out of the house without another word to Jack, his enraged shouts less and less audible with every step she took away from their door.

There had been no question of where she would go. Several weeks ago, after they had given up the last pretence that they would stop having sex or that it was nothing more than a casual affair between them, Andy had asked her to leave Jack and move in with him. She had told him that she could not do it. She had not been willing to give up on her marriage back then. Maybe he had been right, though. Maybe it was time to let go of something that brought her nothing but pain and start over. Her parents would be disappointed in her for not honouring her vows, but in the end it was her life and her decision. She had given Jack more than enough chances, had asked him what she could do to make him feel better, what he needed from her to make it work. She had begged, and charmed, and cried, and yelled, but nothing had changed. He did not seem to be willing to meet her halfway.

Andy on the other hand had been waiting for her to take a step towards him for weeks, and she was finally ready to do that. She was ready to start living her life again, with him. That did not make her decision to leave Jack any easier, nor did it lessen the pain of his latest verbal attacks. Despite having fallen in love with Andy, Sharon still loved her husband, and letting go of that was breaking her heart. Wiping at her cheeks in a vain attempt of hiding her tears, Sharon climbed out of the car, locked the door, and walked towards the rickety stairs. The metal creaked and groaned with every step she took, and she was glad once she had made it to the second floor. With one last deep breath, Sharon knocked on Andy's door, anxious to see him and to feel his strong arms around her.

When he opened the door, Sharon wordlessly stepped into his embrace, her hands slipping around him and her face turning into his neck. His warmth seeped through her clothes and his familiar, comforting scent soothed her aching heart and confirmed her belief that she was making the right decision in leaving Jack. And yet, the guilt was still there, gnawing at her, whispering in the back of her mind of cowardice and sin, trying to rob her of the peace and sense of belonging she felt with Andy. She did not want to listen to it. Not tonight.

Sharon sensed that he wanted to say something; that he wanted to ask what had brought her to his door at that time of night, and why she was crying, but she did not want to talk. Talking meant giving room to the guilt; it meant risking for it to change her mind. Instead, she wanted to silence it, to drown it out with love and passion until it yielded to the overwhelming evidence that her choice was right.

Andy grunted in surprise when she shoved him against the wall of his small, dark hallway, her foot kicking the door closed as she grabbed his face with both hands and captured his lips with her own. It only took him a split second to catch on and respond to her heated kiss, opening his mouth to her insisting tongue, and meeting it with his own for a heated duel. His hands slid up and down her sides, his thumbs grazing her breasts, drawing a moan from her. Fire burned in her veins, hot and fast, and she could not get enough of it. She pushed against him, biting at his lower lip when he took hold of her hips and pulled her against him, making her feel the effect she was having on him.

Andy was trying to slow her down, his caresses gentle and slow, a counterpoint to her own desperation, but slow was not what she needed. She wanted him to make her forget, to take possession of her body and her soul and brand her as his. She needed him to claim her and erase any memory of another's touch.

Tugging at the hem of his white t-shirt, she pushed it up and over his head, missing the touch of his hands on her when he raised his arms to help her undress him, but they returned even before the soft fabric hit the floor. Sharon latched onto his neck, biting and licking her way down, leaving angry, red marks all the way down to his flat nipples. She relished his groans and hisses, knowing that the pain she inflicted would push the limits of his control; that he would answer her wordless plea to let go.

Sinking to her knees in front of him, she dragged his sweatpants down and watched him step out of them. Her hands slid up and down his thighs, the coarse hair tickling her palm as she urged him to move his feet further apart. One of her hands closed around his hard length in a firm grip, moving up and down as her other hand cradled his balls, squeezing until she felt his body tense in a mixture of fear and arousal. His hands slipped into her hair, tugging her closer to his twitching member, and she complied with his silent request. She let her tongue circle around his head a few times, teasing him just a little more, before she let him slide past her lips.

His grip on her hair was almost painful as he used it to control her movements, to push himself deeper and force her to swallow him. When he pushed too far, she tightened her grip on his balls a little more, a wordless, but unmistakable threat, and he backed off again, just enough for her to relax her hold on him. It was the struggle for dominance, the slight edge of danger each posed to the other, which fuelled their passion, which had her core throbbing with the need to be touched. It would not take much for her to find her release. It never did when she could tempt him into losing control.

Andy's thrusts became harder and faster, indicating that he was getting close to his breaking point. Humming around his length, she drew a groan from him, his hips surging towards her with even more force, nearly knocking her backwards. She let one finger slide over the soft skin behind his balls, pressing gently and inching further back, teasing, threatening. It was enough for him to gently push her head back until he slipped out of her mouth, his member glistening with her saliva and bouncing in front of her face. She planted a quick kiss on its tip before he helped her up, spun them around and pressed her back against the wall, pinning her to it with his body.

The shock of their suddenly changed positions still shuddered through her when his lips were on hers once again, tongues fighting for dominance as they shared his taste. Andy frantically tugged at her shirt, breaking their kiss only long enough to rid her of it. He cupped her breasts through the dark blue lace of her bra, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, the feeling of the coarse fabric between them and his touch sending jolts of pleasure along her nerves right to her core. His lips moved down her neck, his teeth scraping along her pulse point and nibbling at the sensitive skin over her collarbone. He drew random patterns across her chest with his tongue, capturing the edge of her bra between his teeth and tugging it down to free her right breast. He circled her nipple with his tongue, lapping at it and suckling it until she shivered, before he bit down hard enough to make her whimper. Somehow, Andy always managed to capture that sweet spot between pain and pleasure, and she arched her back in reaction, urging him to go on, to take more.

He gladly complied, opening the clasp of her bra and dragging it down her arms as his attention shifted to her other breast. Sharon was almost incoherent with desire by the time he finally unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, slipping his hand inside to cup her mound. She moaned in frustration when he let it simply rest there, the damp fabric of her panties keeping it from touching her the way she wanted. She rocked her hips into his hand, seeking more stimulation. Her whimpers and moans increased in volume with every passing moment, until he finally slipped his fingers past the hindering fabric and between her wet folds. She was so ready for him, every nerve ending tingling, waiting for a little more, for that last push.

Andy knew her body, the way it responded to him, what she needed. He pushed her pants and panties down her legs far enough that she was able to step out of them. He nudged her legs further apart with his foot until her muscles protested and her balance became precarious. Cold air hit her sensitive skin, making her feel exposed and sending a shiver down her spine, but all that was forgotten as soon as he slipped a third finger inside her, setting a hard, fast pace that made her head spin. When he captured one of her nipples between his teeth and bit down hard once again, his thumb pressing against her clit and letting her create the stimulation she needed as she rolled her hips, she came apart in a violent explosion of passion, her inner muscles clenching around his fingers and her hands tugging at his short hair, pulling him against her chest as she screamed her release, not caring if his neighbors heard her.

Her knees felt wobbly and she was grateful for the support of Andy's arms and the wall at her back that kept her from crumbling to the ground. His lips were soft as he placed gentle kisses against her temple, pulling her body close and burying a hand in her thick hair. Her head rested against his chest, his rapid heartbeat indicating how affected he was. She revelled in the feeling of his skin against hers, of the heat emanating from his body, of the solid flesh twitching against the soft pillow of her stomach. Her body still shook with the effects of her release, but her hunger for him had not lessened. With every breath she took, her heartbeat slowed down and her troubled thoughts and worries came back. They were unwelcome, and Sharon was resolved to keep them at bay for as long as possible.

A devious grin crept onto her face as she gently swayed her hips and elicited an almost pained groan from Andy. She admired his restraint, but it was entirely misplaced at that moment. Capturing his lips in another heated kiss, she nudged him backwards in the direction of his small bedroom. They blindly stumbled down the short hallway, bumping into walls and taking a small break against the doorframe, hands eagerly exploring every bit of bare skin they could reach, before they continued their journey. When the back of his legs hit the mattress at the end of the bed, she gave him a shove, satisfied with his surprised grunt as he landed on his back. She barely gave him a chance to scoot further onto the bed before she crawled after him, straddling his hips, moaning as she rubbed her slick folds along his length. Without wasting another moment, Sharon slipped her hand between their bodies and curled her fingers around him, guiding him towards her entrance.

As she slowly sank down, her muscles adjusting to his size, Sharon leaned back, bracing her hands on Andy's thighs, and let out a long sigh, enjoying the sensation of being joined with him. His hands on her butt prompted her into moving, her hips rolling at a quick pace as he caressed her sides and breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers and tugging on them until the pleasant pain made her gasp. He tried to sit up in order to shower her neck and chest with kisses, but she did not allow it. Bringing her hands to his shoulders, she pushed him back down roughly, putting her weight on him as she rode him hard and fast. In retaliation, his palm landed on her behind with a resounding slap, making her hiss and thrust against him even harder.

With every roll of her hips, with every thrust, with every time that he filled her, Sharon's desperation for release grew. Her fingers curled into the skin of his chest, her nails leaving red marks. She was so close. Her body was on fire, passion burning along her veins, making her spine tingle and her belly tighten. The heat was almost too much; it scorched her skin, ignited every fibre of her being, but it was not enough. Andy had a firm grip on her hips, pulling her down into his thrusts as he bucked beneath her. She was certain that her skin would bear visual evidence of that night, but she did not care. She chased after her elusive release, ready to leap, her sighs and moans mixing with his groans to create a symphony of passion. When one of his hands moved so that his thumb rested over her clit, applying just the right amount of pressure, Sharon tumbled over the edge once more, moaning his name as her walls quivered around him.

Her lungs burned with the need for oxygen, but she could not breathe. Every muscle in her body trembled with ecstatic tension before it left her from one second to the next and she slumped down into Andy's waiting arms. He hugged her close to his chest once again, his hands stroking up and down her back in a soothing caress. It took a long moment for her to realize that he was still hard inside her, and the slightly pained expression on his face confirmed that he had held back his own release.

A moment later she found herself on her back with Andy hovering above her, joining their bodies again in one long, slow thrust. He stayed there, sheathed inside her, his body covering hers and his hands cupping her cheeks. He stared into her eyes, a wealth of emotions visible in his gaze as he let his fingers feather over her skin, mapping every inch of her face, her neck, and her chest as if he were trying to memorize her. His eyes never left hers, searching their depth for something, touching upon a part of her heart and soul that seemed to exist solely for him, that bore his mark and came alive with the spark of love and wonder he communicated with every glance, with every touch, and with every word.

When he started to move, his thrusts were slow and gentle, his touch and gaze so loving that it brought tears to her eyes. In all the months they had indulged in this affair, they had never once truly made love. They had had many passionate encounters, which had gradually evolved from impulsive, casual sex to something deeper, something truly beautiful and precious. And yet, it had never felt like this, it had never been love before.

Despite the slowness of his thrusts and his obvious determination to soak up every moment, to make it last as long as possible, Andy's control was slipping, his need for release too great to suppress anymore. His movements became more and more irregular, his muscles trembling beneath her hands. Sharon wrapped her arms and legs around him, cradling him to her as she welcomed his steadily growing desire. She knew that she would not climax again – not after two rather mind-blowing orgasms, but somehow this felt even better. She was not selfishly focused on her own release. Instead, she was able to experience the beauty of his passion fully without any distractions. When he came apart in her arms, his loud groan music to her ears, she tightened her hold on him even more, offering comfort and shelter in this moment of profound vulnerability. Never before had Sharon felt so deeply connected to another human being as she did in those seconds when Andy allowed himself to rest in her arms, boneless and sated, his head on the pillow next to hers, their cheeks touching.

Only when he had regained some control over his limbs did he roll off of her. She hummed quietly, disappointed when he slipped from her body. Andy pulled her with him, slipping his arms around her and tucking her against his side, as unwilling to lose their closeness as she was. They lay next to each other, their legs tangled together and her head resting on his chest, hands tirelessly travelling over still moist skin. The streetlamps in front of the building bathed the room in a soft light and the air was filled with the sound of traffic, the neighbor's television, and their own gradually calming breathing.

For the first time in months, Sharon truly felt at peace, like she belonged, and her heart was close to bursting with the love she felt for this man. For the first time in months, she was not afraid to admit to herself that she did indeed love him. For the first time in months, she allowed herself to imagine a future with him, to let go of her guilt and let happiness and hope fill her soul.

Turning her face into his neck, she kissed him gently, inhaling his intoxicating scent. Her lips moved against his pulse point as she spoke, her words quiet, only just loud enough for him to hear.

"I love you."

Andy pulled her even closer, pressing his lips into her hair. He held her for a long moment, wordlessly, barely breathing, and his body tense once more. Even before he spoke, Sharon knew that he would break her heart, and she held her own breath in anticipation of his words.

"Amanda asked me to come home," he whispered into her hair, his voice close to breaking.

Sharon moaned quietly, pain slicing through her as if he had slowly pierced her heart with a knife. Her lungs once again refused to expand, burning with the lack of oxygen. She felt as if someone had suddenly ripped the rug out from underneath her feet, her head spinning as she fought for something solid to hold onto. She wanted to scream at him, but she had no breath to form words. She wanted to push him away, to create as much distance between them as possible, she wanted to beat her fists against his chest, but she was unable to move. Instead, she just lay there, motionless, her head resting on his chest. Silent tears ran down her cheek as the full weight of his words hit her.

For a long time, she had tried to come to terms with the fact that she loved a man who was not capable of returning those feelings completely. She had resigned herself to being more committed to her marriage than her husband. That was until she had fallen in love with a man who loved her just as much, who wanted her more than his next drink or the thrill of an exciting bet. She had felt horrible for betraying her husband, and she had tried to push her feelings for Andy aside until that had no longer been possible. Just as she was ready to move on with him, he walked away from her, from them.

"If it weren't for Nicole… I'm so sorry, Sharon. I wish…" Andy took a deep breath, tightening his arms around her once more, his embrace almost painful, before he continued. His voice rumbled deep in his chest, raspy with sadness. He nuzzled her hair gently, planting soft kisses against her forehead. "This doesn't change how much I lo…"

Sharon bolted from his arms, her sudden movement shocking him into silence. She held up her hand and shook her head, her teary eyes pleading with him not to say it. "Don't! Just… don't," she whispered before she turned away and walked over to the window, grabbing his robe from the back of a chair on the way and hastily struggling into it. She stood with her back towards him, her arms wrapped around her body in an effort to find some comfort where there was none. She drew several shaky breaths before she felt like she had enough control over her voice to speak again. This time, she sounded almost emotionless, as if she were discussing a slightly regrettable decision at work instead of their broken hearts. Only the trembling of her hands and her slightly deeper tone betrayed her true emotional state.

"You're right, of course. We should never have let it get this far. It was stupid to think that… Never mind. I should go now."

She walked out into the hallway towards the front door and the pile of clothes they had so carelessly discarded earlier, getting dressed as quickly as possible. Andy followed her, his heart heavy with the thought of letting go of her. He took the sweatpants that she wordlessly handed to him and put them on while he thought of something to say that would change her mind, something that would change the way things had to be. He was unable to come up with anything.

When Sharon had finished dressing, she turned towards him, but her eyes would not meet his. They were red-rimmed and glistened with fresh tears that spilled past her lashes and ran down her cheeks, an endless stream that painted a picture of misery onto her beautiful features. She reached out towards him, her fingertips feathering over his chest, barely touching, but it was enough to send a spark of electricity through his skin, right into his heart underneath, making it jolt painfully. He captured her hand in his and pressed it more firmly against his chest, trying to hold on to her for a little while longer.

"I'll take a few days off. I think a little distance will be good for both of us. I really hope you can work things out with Amanda. You both deserve another chance, and so does Nicole." Sharon swallowed past the lump in her throat, withdrawing her hand from his grasp and taking a step back. "Take care of yourself, Andy."

Barely managing to hold back a sob, she spun on her heel, opened the door and practically sprinted down the wobbly stairs. Her chest ached almost unbearably as she kept holding most of her pain inside. Just a few more steps, she kept repeating to herself until she finally reached the relative safety of her car. Blindly fumbling to insert the key into the ignition, she wiped at her eyes with her free hand, trying to clear them enough to drive. All she wanted was to get away from him, away from where he could see her lose control over her emotions completely. Sharon was determined to never let him find out how much he had hurt her by going back to his wife. She would deal with her broken heart in solitude, and once she returned to work, she would be in complete control once again. She would be his colleague and maybe, with a little more time, they would be able to regain some of their previous closeness – as friends.

 **~TBC~**


	10. Chapter 10

**Everything I Failed To Be**

 **Chapter Ten**

* * *

 **Time:** June 6 1999

For the last ten days they had been cooped up at Andy Flynn's house, surrounded by cops 24 hours a day with no opportunity to escape even for a short while and with no idea of how long this situation would last. It wasn't their home, they didn't have many of their things with them and they didn't know any of the people around them. The circumstances were frightening even for her, and with everything they had been through these past few months, Sharon wasn't surprised to see one of her children blow up. The fact that it was Emily wasn't surprising, either.

She was the cautious one of her children. Where Ricky effortlessly got along with everyone and was quick to adapt to new circumstances, Emily was skeptical of unfamiliar people and reluctant to open up. She didn't trust easily, but once she did open up to someone, she put her heart and soul into it. Emily also had quite the temper if she felt she wasn't being treated fairly. It burned hot and fast, but it was gone just as quickly. She said a lot of things during those outbursts, which she later regretted and apologized for. It was a well-rehearsed routine by now, as her temper had gotten a lot of stage time since Emily hit puberty.

After being told once again that going to her friend's birthday was not an option, Emily had turned the full force of her anger and frustration on her mother, her voice loud enough to entertain the entire block. At some point, when the words that left her mouth had turned towards hurtful, Andy had entered the kitchen, a thunderous look on his face. So far he had always kept out of their little arguments, leaving her kids' frustrations for her to deal with. Up until that moment he hadn't seen the full force of teenage outrage, though. He practically pushed Sharon aside, standing almost nose to nose with her daughter.

Sharon didn't listen to the words that flew back and forth, too mesmerized by the sight in front of her. Her hand grabbed blindly for the kitchen counter behind her, her breath caught in her throat. She had always known, had recognized that look on her daughter's face even when Emily had been a toddler, but to see them like this, brown eyes locked in an intense stare and angry voices attempting to gain the upper hand – it was overwhelming and slightly surreal.

Sharon felt lightheaded and on the verge of hysterical laughter. The rational part of her brain informed her that the stress of the last few months was catching up with her. Witnessing this spectacle did not exactly serve to reduce her stress levels, so she curled her hands into fists, nails digging into palms, and drew a deep breath before doing something she very rarely did. She raised her voice enough to be heard over the tireless yelling.

"Enough!"

The unusual action got their attention and two pairs of startled, brown eyes stared at her. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, drawing strength from the sudden silence, before she fixed them on her daughter.

"Emily, I want you to go to your room and calm down, and I don't want to see or hear you until dinner."

The girl inhaled, ready to protest, but Sharon's narrowed eyes and raised hand made her rethink that course of action. Instead she crossed her arms over her chest and glared silently.

"We already talked about this. You know the reason why I can't let you go to Julia's party, and no amount of yelling or sulking will change that. Now go cool off and think very carefully what your next words should be."

A huff and pointed eye-roll later, Emily retreated to the guestroom, her stomping and the slamming door a last protest.

Sharon touched a hand to her forehead, closing her eyes against the headache that was making itself at home behind them.

"I'm sorry, Andy. You shouldn't have to put up with this. She's scared and frustrated and…"

Andy interrupted her with a brief brush of his hand against her arm, his voice once again calm, every trace of his earlier irritation gone.

"She's a teenager, Sharon. They open their mouths and words come out, and most of the time those words aren't good. She just doesn't understand how dangerous this situation is. You can tell her, and intellectually, she'll know what's at stake, but at that age sense and good judgment are in short supply. It's our job to make those unpopular decisions for our kids, whether they like it or not. This will surely not have been the last fight, but we will get through this."

Nodding slowly, Sharon gave him a small smile, grateful for his understanding. The silence that followed turned uncomfortable quickly. The forced closeness, the domesticity of living under one roof, made her feel awkward more often than not. She didn't know how to act when she was alone with him.

With the children in the room she was primarily mother, a role she was comfortable with, and Andy easily fit into that dynamic.

Whenever his colleagues were here and they talked about the case, she was the lawyer, drawing strength from rationally analyzing the tiniest detail. She knew what to do in that situation, her relationship with Andy clearly defined in that context.

When they were alone, however, there were no lines, no definitions. All they had between them in those moments were uncomfortable silences, awkwardness, and too many old memories and regrets.

Remembering her original reason for being in the kitchen, Sharon gestured towards the stove and the vegetables assembled next to it, waiting to be cut.

"I'd better get back to working on dinner if we want to eat anytime today."

She avoided looking at him directly, but saw him nod out of the corner of her eye. He was just as uncomfortable as she and seemed relieved to have a reason to retreat.

"Yeah, I'll go look through some files Provenza brought over. Unless… Is there anything I can help you with?"

Sharon shook her head, trying not to let him see how much she wanted to be alone right now.

"Thank you, but there's not a lot to do here."

Turning around, Sharon focused her attention on the dinner preparations, absentmindedly listening to Andy's retreating footsteps.

After some initial struggling, they had found a domestic arrangement that somehow worked for them. The first couple of days, Andy had treated Sharon and her kids like guests in his house, insisting on doing the cooking and cleaning himself. On the third day, Sharon had been ready to climb the walls with nothing to take her mind off of their situation. They had had their first fight in seventeen years over who would do the dishes that night. In the end, Andy had relented, finally understanding that she badly needed something to do, and that it would be best if her children got their share of the chores the way they did at home. It would give them at least some sense of normalcy in this chaotic time.

Sharon was not a born housewife, and not being able to go to work every day had a severe impact on her mood. Taking care of the kids and Andy, the officers who were assigned to watch the house, and the detectives that came and went to discuss the case and keep them updated, took up most of her time, but it failed to engage her mind sufficiently. She still had too much time to worry.

They would often include her in their briefings, asking her questions about the Connollys', anything that would help them put an end to their criminal activities and make sure they would never be able to hurt anyone again. Her information was not particularly useful at the moment, because it only implicated Mr. Connolly and one of his sons, and for no more than assault, since she had not witnessed the actual murder of their bookkeeper, nor could she be sure that the man that had been beaten up while she had retrieved her files had actually been the missing bookkeeper. She could say in front of a judge that Connolly senior had threatened her and her children, and then there was the breaking and entering, but they were certain that it would have been done by some of his goons instead of him or his sons. They needed more evidence to make sure that they could put the entire clan away for good or they would risk putting Sharon and her children in even more danger.

It frustrated her that there was nothing she could do to speed things up. She was not used to being passive, to sitting back and letting other people take care of things for her. At least Andy had managed to convince his partner to bring her work computer and a stack of files from her home so that she could do something useful. There was not a lot of work she could do without meeting with clients or colleagues, but whatever could be done from home or via email or phone, she did, just as her children tried to keep up to date with their schoolwork with whatever information their classmates could pass on to them.

Their circumstances were less than ideal, and at some point Sharon and Andy would have to address whatever it was that was still between them, as the awkwardness increased with each passing day, but for the moment they were dealing with the situation one day at a time. It was the best they could do.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Sharon stood at the bottom of the stairs and yelled for her children to come down for dinner. She hoped Emily had calmed down enough to be civil at the table. It was not as if Sharon didn't understand her daughter's frustration with their situation, but her own nerves were getting close to their breaking point, and there was only so much more teenage attitude she was willing to put up with.

Stopping by the living room, she quickly leaned into the door to see if Andy had heard her. He was already busy packing up his files, looking up when he saw her.

"I'll be right there."

She gave him a soft smile and walked back into the kitchen, busying herself with setting the table. Andy was the first to join her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently moved her aside as she tried to reach the plates. He kept them in the topmost cupboard, which was so ridiculously high up that she always had trouble getting to them. Handing her the desired items with a grin, Andy turned towards the stove and eyed the vegetable stir-fry, sniffing cautiously.

After placing the plates on the table, Sharon turned back towards the counter and caught a disappointed look flitting over his face. She couldn't help but smile at the sight. He was such a guy when it came to food, just like Ricky. _And her husband_ , a small voice inside her head supplied unbidden.

When Andy turned towards her with a pout on his face, Sharon pushed him aside and opened the oven to retrieve the grilled chicken. His lips immediately stretched into a happy smile. She set the pan on the table, hiding her own smile at his predictable reaction. He followed her with the vegetables and potatoes. They had just set everything down when Ricky padded through the door and plunked himself into his seat.

"Hey, where's your sister?" Sharon asked.

The only answer she got was a disinterested shrug as her son poured himself a glass of orange juice. Sharon sighed, seeing a long, frustrating discussion with her sulking daughter in her immediate future, followed by cold dinner. She gestured at the food and told the guys to start eating before she left to drag her daughter out of her room.

Sharon knocked on the door softly and called out to Emily. She gave her a moment to answer, before she opened the door and peered into the room. When she couldn't spot her daughter anywhere, Sharon opened the door wider and called her once again. She walked around the room, opening the closet door to see if she had hidden in there. It was something she had done when she was little. Finding it empty, just like the rest of the room, Sharon strode across the hall to check the bathroom, but the door was ajar and the room dark. She switched on the light and checked, regardless. When she found it empty, a bad feeling started to settle in her stomach like a heavy rock. Calling Emily's name once more, louder this time and maybe with a hint of concern, Sharon checked the other rooms on the first floor.

"Is everything alright?"

Andy's voice floated up the stairs, followed by the man himself. Having checked the entire first floor without locating her daughter, Sharon walked towards him, a worried frown on her forehead.

"I don't know. Emily isn't in her room or anywhere else up here."

Sharon saw her concern reflected in his eyes, but Andy laid a calming hand on her arm, as they turned to head downstairs again.

"Let's check downstairs. Maybe she needed some air and went to sit on the porch."

Andy's house came with a beautiful backyard surrounded by a high fence and a generous wooden porch wrapped around the back. A few wicker chairs stood to one side, surrounding a small table. A couple of comfortable deck chairs stood on the other side of the door.

When Sharon and Andy stepped out of the back door, the porch was deserted, though, as was the garden. With every place they checked without finding the girl, Sharon's desperation grew. Emily wasn't the type to hide. When she was annoyed, she retreated to her room to sulk. It was her space and she knew she always had her privacy there – within reason, of course. Sharon had never given her kids a reason to hide from her.

As living room, study, and guest bathroom turned out to be empty, desperation made room for panic. Emily wasn't in the house. Sharon stopped in the hallway outside the kitchen, one hand braced against the wall, her eyes closed, as she tried to keep breathing.

The disturbing images she had been able to keep at the back of her mind at first had become more and more present as room after room was searched. Now they assaulted her full force. Her daughter showing up beaten up and bleeding in front of their door. Her scared voice over the phone, crying for help. A body half-sunken in moist earth, almost unrecognizable with blood and bruises. A lifeless body on a metal table, blue-lipped and grey-skinned, surrounded by cold, harsh light and the nauseating smell of the morgue. Or maybe the worst of all – never knowing at all.

Sweat stood out on her forehead, her body hot, almost feverish with worry, before a shiver of cold terror ran down her spine. The edges of her vision started to darken, spots dancing in front of her eyes as every breath was harder to draw than the last. Sharon recognized the signs of an impending panic attack, but she was helpless to prevent it. Her baby was gone. It was a breathless mantra that kept repeating itself in her mind.

Sharon almost screamed when firm hands grabbed her shoulders and shook her lightly. It took a moment before she could make sense of the insistent voice that belonged to the hands.

"Sharon, look at me! You've got to breathe."

Andy's eyes locked onto hers, warmth and compassion shining from their brown depth. She tried to follow his order, her lungs protesting as she forced more air into them than they were willing to take. Gradually, the dizziness and disorientation receded, leaving her empty and cold.

She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to find an anchor in Andy's steady gaze. Her thoughts were still running around in circles, unanswered questions and frightening images warring for attention, making her tremble uncontrollably.

When she was drawn against Andy's solid form, Sharon tensed for a moment before she gave in to the comfort his warmth offered. Her head resting against his chest, she let him calm her slightly, his hands drawing soothing circles on her back.

A few minutes later she had regained the ability to breathe again, the dizziness and nausea receding. She stepped away from him, her eyes on the ground between them. She was embarrassed at having let him see her so weak.

Andy gave her another few seconds to collect herself before he got back to the issue at hand. He touched her shoulder again to draw her attention before he spoke.

"Okay, listen. We would have heard it if someone had come into the house to take her. I'm pretty sure she wouldn't have gone with anyone without putting up a fight. That means she probably sneaked out to go to that party she's been going on about for days, although I have no idea how she got past the officers outside. What's the name of that kid and where does she live?"

Sharon felt a little better as she thought about Andy's words. He was right, of course. Emily had been talking about that birthday party for days and she had been angry earlier. She closed her eyes for a second, recalling the details she had seen on the invitation two weeks ago.

"Her name is Julia Walters. I don't remember the address, but I have the phone number in my address book. I'll give her mother a call."

As it turned out, the Walters only lived a twenty minute walk away, and Andy immediately sent a patrol car after her, hoping to catch her on the way. All they were able to do was wait for a call – either from Mrs. Walters, who had promised to get back to them as soon as Emily showed up, or from the officers who were sent out to find her.

Neither Sharon nor Andy were particularly patient people. Andy paced around the house like a caged animal, randomly picking things up and setting them down again. Sharon tried to cover her nervousness with straightening out the living room and kitchen, Cleaning up after two teenagers and a longtime bachelor always left something to do.

Fifteen minutes later, Andy was on the phone with one of the patrol officers, his tone leaving no doubt about his state of mind, and Sharon had started to scrub the kitchen cabinets.

Twenty minutes later, Andy had gone on to yell at the officers stationed outside his front door for letting a 16 year-old girl outsmart them, while Sharon had finally given up on housework when the cabinets were the cleanest they had probably been since leaving the store.

Half an hour later, she was back to feeling dizzy and nauseous, as she realized that it was unlikely that Emily would just turn up. Either she had gotten lost on the way or… Sharon didn't want to think about the other possibility, but with every minute that passed without news, it got harder and harder to discount that possibility.

Ricky was uncharacteristically clingy through all this. Once he had realized that his sister was in serious trouble, he had stuck to his mother's side. His attempts at helping her clean had only lasted a short while before Sharon had told him to sit down and stay out of the way. Usually, she would encourage any and all voluntary housework, but she simply had no patience for having him standing in the way in her current frame of mind. She handed him one of the comics he had brought with him and asked him to just keep her company. He had sat at the kitchen table for a long time, quietly reading. His eyes had sought her out every other minute, worry creasing his brow, and she had wished for a way to make him feel better.

When the phone finally rang, both Sharon and Andy almost jumped out of their skins. They simultaneously reached for the phone, almost colliding as they rushed towards the table. Andy gave her a look through narrowed eyes before he picked up the receiver and growled a tense "Flynn" into it.

Sharon watched his face intently, trying to discern the other end of the conversation from his gruff replies and the grim look on his face. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat as it became clear that the news wasn't good. They had found something and it wasn't good, that much she could tell.

Gripping Andy's free arm with both hands, she gave him a pleading look, tears already pooling in her eyes as she saw her poor baby alone and lifeless on the cold ground somewhere out there in the dark.

He tore his eyes away from the little dent in the coffee table they had been fixed on to meet hers. Shaking his head, he placed his hand on her back in support and reassurance. Wrapping the call up soon after with a demand to be called as soon as they knew more, Andy put the phone down again and led Sharon over to the sofa.

Once they were both seated, slightly turned towards each other, their knees touching, she tightened her grip on his arm once again.

"Andy, what did they find? It's not… She's not…"

She couldn't bring herself to say it out loud. Andy shook his head when he saw where her thoughts were taking her, putting his hand over hers.

"They haven't found Emily, yet. They found a gift-wrapped package at the side of the road, and the birthday card that was attached to it indicated that it's Emily's."

If possible, Sharon's face paled even more at his words and Andy wished that he had anything at all to make her feel better. It was one thing when the parents he was dealing with were strangers, when he didn't know the missing child beyond what their investigation had revealed about them. This case was different, though. For one thing, it wasn't really his case anymore. What had started as a fairly routine investigation into the illegal practices of some smalltime criminals with big ambitions had become so deeply entangled with his own life that he couldn't possibly tell where one ended and the other began.

Sharon wasn't just some distraught mother and Emily not another runaway teenager. Sharon might have been a lawyer for many years, but before that, she had been one of them. She knew the realities of crime statistics, the likely outcomes of cases like that, and she could connect clues and draw conclusions just as well as any other cop. Then there was the additional complication of their shared past. They had meant something to one another once, had been close enough to seriously consider ending their marriages, and the forced closeness of the last few weeks brought back many hidden and bitter-sweet memories.

In addition to getting reacquainted with his old partner and discovering all the big and small ways in which she had changed, he had gotten to know her children. Although their petulant attitude annoyed him, they had grown on him. His own children still didn't like spending time with him, so maybe this illusion of family was what drew him in more than anything else. Whatever the reasons, and however ill-advised his increasing emotional involvement in their fate might be, Andy was too far gone down that particular road to back out now. He felt Sharon's pain and fear, and it was difficult to take a step back and look at the situation through the eyes of Lieutenant Flynn instead of Andy's.

Andy wanted to hold Sharon, tell her everything would be all right before jumping into his car and tear the city apart until he found Emily. Lieutenant Flynn needed to present all the facts to the agitated mother in front of him, calm her down as much as possible and make sure she didn't do something stupid – like jumping into her car and tear the city apart to find her daughter.

Deciding on something in between those two options, he squeezed her trembling hand, making sure to keep his voice calm and reassuring as he tried to point out the positive aspects of their findings. She didn't need help seeing the other, more realistic side.

"There was no blood at the scene and no signs of struggle. That's good news, Sharon. Maybe something startled her and she ran. There's still a chance she'll turn up unharmed. I bet she's figured out by now that sneaking out wasn't the brightest idea. It's possible that she's just scared to come home and face the music. It really is too early to draw any conclusions."

She nodded, her eyes focused on their joined hands. Sharon knew that he was trying to make her feel better, to ease the worry as much as he could, but as much as she wanted to believe his words, she couldn't. For the first time she wished that she didn't know the other side of this game, hadn't been the one to deliver news like that, attempting to keep a balance between hope and realism. It was a tactic that didn't work on her; not when the evidence was clearly pointing in a very specific and frightening direction. They were only waiting for confirmation at this point, maybe a phone call or a letter, any sort of message informing them that Emily had fallen into the hands of the people Sharon was supposed to testify against.

Confirmation came several hours later, shortly before dawn, in the form of a note that was delivered to Andy's house. The officers stationed outside had intercepted a little boy as he had tried to approach the house and had brought him and the message he carried inside.

The initial excitement at a possible new lead vanished towards noon, when the means of delivery turned out to be a dead end and the note itself didn't provide any forensic evidence apart from the prints of the boy who had brought it.

While they waited, Sharon tried her very best to keep it together, being aware that a hysterical mother having a nervous breakdown would not be particularly helpful, but the hold she had on her good intentions started to slip when they told her that, despite the very explicit threat against Emily's life, Sharon's testimony against these people might be their best, if not their only chance of finding her.

After briefing them on the less than satisfying results on the note, Lieutenant Provenza had given his partner a meaningful look and left them alone to return to his work. Apparently, Andy had been nominated to convince her that having her testify in front of a judge as soon as possible was the best course of action. Sharon listened to his words, disbelief rendering her mute as he tired to appeal to her rationality with his calm tone and careful words. With every word he spoke, her anger increased until she thought it would choke her. Did he really mention her civic duty and her integrity as a former officer and a part of the legal system? When he pointed out that it was her responsibility as a parent to provide a good example for her children by doing what was right, she could not take it any longer. She jumped up from her place at the dining room table, hands on hips, glaring at him.

"How dare you bring my children into this? You have no right to make them part of this discussion. Not when it is thanks to you and your partner that their lives got turned upside down. They had to leave their home and can't go to school or see their friends. We were doing fine before you decided to barge into our lives and drag us all into this mess."

Sharon felt her heart pounding at an increasingly rapid pace, blood roaring in her ears. At the very back of her consciousness she was aware that her words were not exactly rational, but that part of her mind was being overruled by fear and anger. The latter emotion was quickly jumping over to Andy, his eyes darkening as he rose from his chair to face her.

"You're not seriously blaming us for your involvement in criminal activity, are you? You've got to be kidding me! If you're looking for someone to blame, I'd suggest your idiot husband. He's the one who got you into this mess in the first place. If I were in your position, I'd be very careful with my accusations. You came to us, it was your decision to work with us in exchange for our protection and you'd do well not to forget that."

His voice had lost the last trace of calm reassurance, its volume steadily rising until he was yelling at her, provoking the same in response.

"I don't need your protection, I can take care of myself, but you promised to protect my children and you didn't. You let them get to Emily and now you expect me to make a decision that will put the life of my daughter on the line, just because you can't figure out how to do your job. If you believe that I'll say one word to help you put those people away before my daughter is safe, you don't know me very well. Once I've testified against those people, there is nothing keeping them from killing Emily. I'm not doing it."

Andy threw his arms in the air in frustration as he turned and started pacing.

"Oh that's just great! So your spoiled brat can't contain her rebellious teenage nature for a couple of weeks and everything we've worked on these past months goes down the drain? I don't think so! I've put up with her attitude, her petulance and her temper tantrums for almost two weeks and you haven't heard me complain once, but this time she went too far. Maybe if you had taught her that actions have consequences, she would've used her brain before running off like an idiot. Well, I guess that's a lesson she's gonna have to learn the hard way now."

Sharon stared at him open-mouthed, trying to overcome her shock at his cruel words long enough to rip him to pieces. When she finally found her voice, the words that came out in an angry shout were far from what she had intended to say.

"Well, just so you know, that spoiled brat you're talking about is your daughter, so maybe you want to reconsider your attitude towards her current situation."

Her unplanned statement was followed by dumbfounded silence. They both stared at one another, considering the implications of her words. The moment her mouth had closed, Sharon regretted what she had said. She had never wanted him to know, had not intended to drag their past out into the harsh light like this. It was out there now, though, and they would have to deal with it. She dreaded his reaction, barely daring to breathe as he processed what he had just heard.

His shocked expression unsettled her and she wished he would speak, while at the same time fearing his words. When she could no longer stand his lack of reaction, she lowered her gaze to the ground and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to alleviate her almost mind-numbing headache. She noticed that her hands were shaking, but did not have the strength to try and hide that fact from him. Instead she turned her back towards him and walked to the large windows that overlooked the backyard.

She felt his eyes on her, the intensity of his stare making her skin prickle. His anger had been temporarily calmed by shock, but it was beginning to rise inside him again, rolling off him in thick waves that threatened to drown her. This time, she could not even blame him.

"And you didn't think I had a right to know?" He practically yelled at her, making her jump slightly, even though she had expected it. "Hell, it's been almost seventeen years. In all this time, you couldn't find a moment to give me a call and mention that we have a child together?"

Her shoulders slumped under the heavy weight of his accusations and the guilt she had carried for so many years. Andy was right, of course. She should have told him. Looking back, she was reasonably sure that they would have worked something out, but at the time she had been too hurt to even think about contacting him.

"You're right," she whispered, tugging her cardigan around her for comfort. "I should have called you when I found out that I was pregnant. I am sorry that I didn't. I wasn't even sure if she was yours until later, when she began to look like you more and more."

Behind her, Andy let out a long breath, relaxing his tense stance slightly. Knowing that he was finally ready to listen, she turned around to face him once again, raising tired eyes to meet his.

"What was I supposed to do, Andy? You had gone back to be with Amanda. You had made your choice, and as much as I was hurting, I didn't want to pressure you into coming back to me. I knew you would leave her if I told you I was expecting your child, but I was afraid that you would end up resenting me. I didn't want you to be with me out of pity or a sense of obligation. That wouldn't have been fair to either one of us."

He took a few steps towards her, closing the distance between them, and caressing her arms gently. "It wouldn't have been like that," he rasped, pulling her into a tender embrace, his hands stroking up and down her back in a soothing rhythm. "It was Amanda I had gone back to out of obligation. It was her I resented in the end, and I never stopped wondering if I made the right decision." They stood in each other's arms for a long while, silence and painful memories between them, a familiar force, drawing them together and keeping them at a distance at the same time. "I wanted nothing more than for you to change your mind. I wish I had known. I wish I could've been the one to take care of you."

Her face was resting against his chest, and he felt the warmth of her breath through the thin layer of fabric as she fought for control. Her whispered words were almost lost in the soft folds of his shirt.

"I wanted you. You sent me away, and all I wanted was you. Now I'm losing her too, and she was all I had left. She's just like you. She isn't going to listen. She's too impulsive. She'll lose her temper, and they'll hurt her… I can't lose her too. I lost everything else we had, but I can't lose her too."

Her hands held onto his shirt, twisting the material in a firm grip. Her entire body trembled with fear and desperation and it left him feeling helpless. He wanted to promise her that they'd find Emily, that she would be all right, but they both knew how frequently the outcome of these situations wasn't good.

When she spoke again, her voice was silent, her pleading words barely audible.

"Andy… please…"

He didn't know what exactly she wanted him to do, she probably didn't even know herself. All he could think of doing at that moment was to wrap his arms around her and hold her for as long as she needed. His lips brushed against her ear, the soft strands of her hair tickling his nose as he whispered desperate words over and over, his voice hoarse with suppressed tears.

"We'll find her."

 **~TBC~**

* * *

 **Once again many, many thanks to all of you for reading, liking, and commenting on this story, especially to those amazing people who take the time to review each chapter. You are so very much appreciated!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Everything I Failed To Be**

 **Chapter Eleven**

* * *

 **Time:** October 1982

Never before had Sharon felt even remotely as miserable as she was right now. Jack's concerned voice and his knocking on the bathroom door was faint over the roaring of blood in her ears. Thinking about Jack made her heave again. Tears streamed down her cheeks as her situation kept going through her mind in an endless circle of pain, heartache, worry and desperation.

At the heart of her problem was the fact that she desperately wanted to be comforted, but not by the man who was currently on the other side of the door. She longed for the strong arms of the man who had stolen her heart before he had returned to his wife and little daughter.

When she had first met Andy Flynn four years ago, she had thought of him as an arrogant, misogynistic asshole, who had severe anger management problems. She had never thought that one day the idea of not being with him would hurt so profoundly that she wished she were dead. Not in her wildest dreams had she imagined back then that, at some point, she would end up on the floor of her bathroom, suffering from terrible morning sickness, wondering if he was the father of her unborn child.

She had not come up with the courage to do a pregnancy test or see her doctor yet, but she knew. She had known for almost two weeks that something was wrong. She had felt it, and deep down, she had realized what was going on long before her conscious mind had been ready to accept the obvious. When she had woken up that morning and barely made it to the bathroom, she had no longer been able to hide from the truth. She was pregnant and she had no idea what to do about it.

They had always been so very careful. Every time she had tumbled into bed with Andy, they had made sure something like this would not happen. Always! Except for that last time, when caution and common sense had left them for a few precious moments. Maybe they had just gotten carried away, or maybe she had not cared anymore, because she had been ready to be with him completely. All that did no longer matter, however. Andy was gone and she was carrying a child that had two possible fathers. How would Jack react to all of that? They had only just decided to give their marriage another chance.

That night, when she had last seen Andy, she had come home late to find Jack in the dark living room, waiting up for her. When she had turned on the light, his unexpected presence had startled her. She had never thought he would be home, as he almost always vanished after they fought to go on a bender for a day or two. That he had been home and sober, his eyes full of regret, had been a surprise, and not an entirely welcome one at the time. She had wanted to be alone to nurse her broken heart and rebuild the walls around it.

Jack had gotten up from the sofa and walked over to meet her at the door. She had almost recoiled from his soft touch on her upper arms as he had given her a long look before pulling her against him. In that moment, she had realized that he had known. He might have been a rotten husband, and he might have cheated on her, but he was far from blind. He had held her for a long time, telling her over and over how sorry he was for hurting her, for not having been there when she had needed him. He had promised to be better for her, to do everything he possible could to be the man she deserved.

His words and his gentle caresses had reached out to a place inside her that needed to connect to another human being. She had let him kiss her. She had let him touch her, undress her with infinite care. She had allowed him to make love to her, to take her body, which still carried the scent of another. She had answered his desire with a desperate need of her own that had scared her.

Afterwards, she had lain next to him on the old, brown rug in the living room, feeling horrible for what she had done. Jack might have betrayed her several times while he was drunk, but as far as she knew, he had never fallen in love with someone else. His heart had always been hers, even if his body had strayed. Yet, she had been reluctant to forgive him. He, on the other hand, had taken her in his arms and loved her, even though he must have known that her heart had still been with Andy.

Over and over he had whispered into her ear that he loved her and that he understood. He had told her that he wanted her back, that he realized now how much he had hurt her and that he did not blame her for finding love elsewhere. She had asked him for a few days to think about it.

While she had appreciated his willingness to try again, she had thought that she owed it to both of them to figure out what she wanted. She had been ready to leave him a few hours ago, after all. Simply returning to him because the man she truly wanted was no longer available would not have been fair to either one of them. Sharon had suggested that she would find a hotel room for a little while, but Jack had refused to let her leave. Instead, he had packed a few things, made sure she understood that he would only be a phone call away if she wanted to talk or wished him to come back, and left to find a bed at a cheap motel down the road. He had never been far away, but he had given her the space she had needed. That, more than anything else, had shown her how serious he was about fixing things between them.

It had taken her two weeks to give him an answer. The day after he had left, Sharon had called her boss and asked for an extended leave. Between not having any money for a vacation and too much work with too few people to do it, she had not taken more than a few days off since she had graduated from the academy, resulting in more than enough vacation days to take a few weeks and sort out what she wanted to do next. Many days had seen her at the beach or hiking in the hills where she would not have to deal with too many people. She had sat for hours with nothing but the sounds of nature surrounding her, thinking through her problems and listening to her heart.

At the end of all that, she had told Jack that he should come home, that they would find a way to work out their issues. They had seen a counselor, and Jack had admitted that his drinking might have gotten out of hand and that he needed help. He was trying his best to keep his promise, to be a good husband to her. They still had a long way to go, but they were on a good path. Things were finally looking up. Sharon was scared that this pregnancy would destroy all the work they had done in the last few weeks.

She had not heard the door open and was startled by the gentle hands that landed on her shoulders, carefully drawing her back into a solid chest, before slipping around her to hold her tight. He whispered soft words into her ear, words of love and understanding. They calmed and reassured her, but she still felt conflicted. Jack was there, he told her that he was aware of the little life growing inside of her, that he was happy about it, and yet Sharon could not help but think that it might not be his child. Did she even want certainty? Was she prepared to live with that question hanging over her head? Was he? Would it be fair to keep the truth from this innocent being? Or from Andy? For the moment, she allowed herself to accept the comfort Jack was offering, to rest in his arms until her stomach calmed down, and to imagine a future where they might be a happy family without all the darkness lingering close by.

 **-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

Hours later, Sharon had left the house, telling Jack that she would be back soon. He had known that his wife would need some time to process and to think about how she wanted to proceed. He had assured her that he would be by her side and that he was elated to start a family with her. He had not mentioned the possibility that he might be agreeing to raise another man's child, and neither had she. It all sounded so wonderful, but she needed to be sure that it would be the right decision, and she always needed space and quiet to work through her emotions.

How she had ended up in front of the run down apartment building, she did not know. She had been driving around for a while, unable to decide if she wanted to go to the beach or drive up into the hills, when she had found herself in the familiar neighborhood. Before she could talk herself out of it, Sharon parked the car at the curb, got out and walked across the street towards the rickety stairs that still looked as shaky as they had a few weeks ago. She stopped at the row of mail boxes at the side of the building, her hands lightly brushing over the name tags until she came to a brand new one. It was sloppily placed over the one that carried Andy's name, still showing enough of it for her to recognize it.

Of course he would no longer live in that old apartment. He had told her that Amanda had asked him to come home. There was no reason for him to still be here. Had a part of her been hoping that he had changed his mind? Or that Amanda had? She had no way of knowing. It had been close to seven weeks since they had last seen each other, after all.

When she had returned from her time off three weeks ago, she had been told that Andy had taken his vacation days as well, just as she was about to come back, and would be gone for the next month. She had been relieved when she had heard that they would have even more time to put some emotional distance between one another, even though she had missed working with him.

With a heavy sigh, Sharon returned to her car, throwing one last glance at the place that held so many beautiful memories, yet so much pain, before she climbed into the driver's seat and pulled back into traffic. She pointed the car towards Santa Monica. The strong wind and slight chill in the air would make sure that the beach would not be too crowded. She looked forward to spending a few hours staring into the distance with nothing but the sound of the waves and the wind and a few strangers who paid no attention to a lone woman sitting in the sand. No one would notice her tears. No one would bother her.

 **-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

Darkness was about to fall when Sharon left the beach and the calming sea to walk back to where she had left her car. Her body was stiff from the cold and from sitting on the ground for hours. The time she had spent alone had led her to make a decision. For the first time since that morning, she felt like she had some control over her situation, some idea of where to go next.

She had been to the house before, a few years ago when she had driven Andy home after his car had broken down. They had been merely friends back then, and she had not felt strange about waving at the pretty blonde woman who had opened the door and greeted her husband with a tender kiss. Amanda had waved back and given her a friendly smile and a nod of thanks before she had dragged Andy inside the tiny bungalow and closed the door. Back then, Nicole had been barely six months old and they had all been so happy.

As she slowly drove along the quiet street, she saw movement in the driveway. The front door was open and light streamed out onto the porch where Amanda stood, clad in a warm jacket, looking over to the old, red Ford and the man who was trying to lock the car without jostling the sleeping child in his arms too much. Once he succeeded, Andy walked up the two steps to join his wife, pausing next to her to accept the kiss she placed on his cheek and allow her to caress their daughter's brown curls. Then they all walked into the house and left her alone, sitting in her car at the side of the road with tears sliding down her cheeks.

She stayed there for endless minutes, motor running, one of her hands resting over her still flat belly. Would her child have dark hair, too? Would he or she have brown eyes that sparkled with mischief? And if so, would Jack be able to love a child that reminded him every day of his wife's infidelity? He had said that he had forgiven her, that he understood, but would he still feel that way once he saw this tiny being and the irrefutable evidence that the father was another? But what if all her worrying was for nothing? What if the child was indeed Jack's? Should she take the chance of being a father away from him just because she was feeling guilty? And did the child not have the right to grow up with a proper family?

In the end, Sharon realized that it would not be right to talk to Andy. He was making an effort to be a good father and husband, and she had no right to sabotage that just because there was a fifty-fifty chance that he might be the one who got her pregnant. Jack wanted her, and he wanted this baby. They had decided to make their marriage work, so she would continue to do that. If it turned out down the road that they were unsuccessful, they had at least given it their best shot. They owed that much to one another and to the little human being they would bring into the world.

 **~TBC~**


	12. Chapter 12

**Everything I Failed To Be**

 **Chapter Twelve**

* * *

 **Time:** June 7 1999

They had retreated to the kitchen once Sharon had calmed down a little bit. It was the only place that was not buzzing with officers chasing leads and discussing options, but it was still close enough for them to notice immediately if there was some new development. Ricky had gone to bed hours ago, after a lot of prodding and several promises from both her and Andy to wake him immediately if they got any news.

Sharon was grateful that he had not been around to witness her earlier meltdown and the subsequent fight with Andy. Although it was highly unlikely that the truth about Emily's parentage would remain a secret with the way she had revealed it to Andy, she was still glad not to have to deal with Ricky's feelings about it at that moment. That would come as soon as he woke up. There were between three and ten police officers in the house at any time, many of which had witnessed her unplanned confession. It would only be a matter of time before her son overheard someone talk about it. She would have to make sure he heard it from her or the fallout would be even worse.

Sharon and Andy sat at the kitchen table facing on another, coffee cups clasped in their hands as they gazed into the silent depth of their rapidly cooling drinks. The air between them was heavy with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. Their past hung over them like a cloud, dark and ominous, ready to bring a disastrous thunderstorm upon them. Neither one of them knew how to start the conversation they both knew they needed to have.

For seemingly endless minutes, Sharon tried to find some way to articulate her jumbled thoughts and emotions, to tell of the hurt and fear and longing she had felt over the years whenever she looked at her daughter and thought about the man who had helped create her. In the end, it was Andy who broke the oppressive silence.

"Do you ever wonder what might have been if… you know." Andy waved his hand between them, indicating everything that used to be. Sharon hummed, her eyes moving away from him in order to hide her troubled thoughts. Yes, she had thought about it. More often than she cared to admit, and it had hurt every single time. They continued to sit in silence for a while longer, neither wanting to risk getting too lost in past pain, before Sharon spoke.

"It hurt so much when you left me to go back to her." She tried to keep her voice devoid of the emotions that came with remembering that particular day, but was only partially successful.

Andy let his head fall forward, his eyes fixed on the swirling, tepid liquid inside his cup as he worried at a hangnail he had meant to take care of all day.

"I never meant to hurt you, Sharon. You loved Jack despite everything, and the two of you had all these big dreams. I always thought you'd be a judge some day and I didn't want to hold you back. I was just some little beat cop with a loose mouth and a quick temper. No matter how much I wanted to hold on to you, I couldn't. I wouldn't have been good for you."

He sounded so forlorn, his voice quiet and broken.

"I would have left Jack for you, Andy. I loved you and I would've gladly given up being a lawyer to be with you." She paused for a long moment, her vision blurring as tears started to pool in her eyes.

"That day, when you told me Amanda had asked you to come back to her… I had just handed in my paperwork to take the detective exam, and I had planned to tell you that night that I'd leave Jack. My dreams had changed, Andy."

Her mind took her back to that night, to the small, run-down apartment, to the old bed that had only been comfortable because he had been in it. When she closed her eyes, she could still feel his arms around her, the soft caresses of his long fingers on her bare skin, the scent of his cologne mingled with the smell of sweat and sex, the overwhelming sense of love and belonging she had felt in that moment.

Tears ran down her cheeks, but she ignored them, let them form salty streams along her neck and chest until they were stopped by the soft fabric of her shirt. She slowly raised her eyes to look at the man across from her, afraid to see his reaction to her words.

He stared at her, surprise and disbelief evident on his face before he closed his eyes tightly, his knuckles turning white from the strong grip he had on his mug. She wanted to reach out and cover his hands with hers, to let her touch help him relax the way it had countless times before, but she took a sip of her coffee instead, flinching at the bitterness of the cold beverage. She considered getting up to get them both a fresh cup, but was stopped by Andy's voice, unusually deep and rough with pain.

"I regretted my decision as soon as you walked out of the door, but I had promised Amanda to try again. I had been waiting for her to give me another chance and I thought I owed it to both of us and to Nicole to make an honest attempt at getting things right. You had said that you would take some time off, and I thought that maybe that would be a good thing, that it gave us both a chance to figure out what we wanted. When your leave was about to end, I wasn't ready to see you yet. I thought if I had a little more time to get you out of my system, to forget what it felt like to be loved by you, I could fix things with Amanda. Turned out that I couldn't do either, but by the time I came back, you were already gone."

It was Andy who got up to refill their cups, taking more time than necessary to rinse them. He tired to hide it from her, but Sharon noticed his hand quickly swiping over his face. Her throat closed up at the thought of all the pain and heartache they had between them, all those years of loneliness and wondering, all the time they had lost. Would they ever be able to put all that behind them, to move on, together? She did not know, but she sincerely hoped so. Even if they ended up being friends, Sharon would be happy. These last days had reminded her why she had liked Andy so much, why they had been such great partners, and why she had fallen in love with him. One thing was certain, however. If they wanted to have a future, any future, together, they would have to share everything, every fear, every emotional injury, and every bit of resentment they had held in their hearts for the last seventeen years.

When Andy returned to the table and placed her mug in front of her, his eyes were suspiciously bright, but the dim light of the rising sun made it impossible for her to say for sure if his eyes were red. He sat down once again and raised the cup to his lips, careful not to burn himself. Sharon watched him intently, so many questions running through her mind that she had no idea where to start.

"She threw me out on Nicole's third birthday. Charlie had only been four months, and he had been feeling bad for over a week. I think it was an ear infection. Either way, he had been crying practically non stop, keeping everyone from getting any sleep. Amanda had asked me to take the day off so I could help her prepare everything for the small birthday party she had planned, but we had a tough case which we had only closed the night before. We had all gone out to the pub afterwards. You know how these things go. Long story short, I came home around noon on Nicole's birthday, terribly hung-over and with no clue why I was being yelled at. It wasn't the first time that happened, but Amanda made sure it was the last."

Sharon studied his profile as he stared out of the window, his brow creased, and the shadow of the past darkening his eyes. It was too easy for her to picture the scene he had described. She had been in his ex-wife's position more than once, after all. How many times had she counted on Jack to be there, only for him to turn up drunk or hung-over or not at all? The only difference was that Sharon had never been strong enough to move past her feelings of guilt and actually kick him out. As she contemplated whether or not that was a good thing, Andy resumed talking, his gaze still fixed on the distant horizon that was slowly turning a brighter shade of pink.

"I guess I already had a drinking problem when we worked together, but after the divorce it got really bad. Amanda got sole custody, and with the irregular hours at work, and the alcohol, and the trouble I got into when I was drunk, the judge decided that I could only see my kids under supervision. I hardly ever got to see them the first few years. There was always something. If it wasn't the job keeping me away, it was a school performance, or a game, or the social worker wasn't available, or they were off on vacation. Nicole remembered me, but for Charlie I was just this guy he had to see from time to time and whose name was Dad. We're still not very close."

Andy swallowed hard as he turned back to face her. He rubbed both hands over his face, resting his elbows on the table. His shaky breath told her how close to tears he really was, and she reached out to brush her fingers along his arm, letting them linger at his elbow in silent support.

"In one year, I lost my wife, my kids and the woman I loved. It felt as if my life was over, so I drank. I went to work and I went to the bar. I drank until I passed out, then I went back to work, trying not to screw up too badly. When I did, I drowned the frustration and anger in the bottle, only to end up in even more trouble. It's a wonder I didn't get myself killed, running my mouth and spoiling for fights. Got my nose bashed in a few more times, though," he said with a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile, but enough for her to respond in kind at the memory of that day long ago when she had punched the smugness out of him.

His wakeup call had come a little over three years earlier, on a hot and humid Saturday morning. The night before had been an especially bad one. It had been his birthday, which he had celebrated at his usual bar with all the other regular guests. Back then, he had called them friends, but they had only cared about his birthday because he had paid for their drinks. When the bartender had refused to serve him, he had taken a cab home to continue drinking alone, without anyone telling him when he had enough. The memories of that night were hazy at best, but the following morning was as clear in his mind as if it had happened last week.

In his celebratory mood, Andy had completely forgotten that his kids would visit him the next day. He still remembered waking up on the living room floor to insistent pounding on the door. He clearly recalled the smell of urine and vomit and stale alcohol and the confusion he had felt as he had stumbled towards the door, cursing every time the stubbed his toes or bumped into things. He had to hold onto the open door with one hand and brace himself against the doorframe with the other to stay on his feet and he still felt the rough surface of the slightly splintered wood under his hands.

What would haunt him to his dying day was the expression of shock and disgust on his children's faces when they had seen him. Charlie had simply turned away, hiding his face in the shirt of the elderly woman who stood behind him. She hugged him to her with one arm, her other hand on Nicole's shoulder, pulling her back slightly. He remembered that it had not been their regular social worker, but he had no recollection of her face. His attention had been focused on his outraged daughter, who had screwed up her face and taken a large step back. Her voice had trembled and tears had run down her cheeks as she had yelled at him. She had called him disgusting, and she had told him that she was ashamed to have him as a father and that she never wanted to see him again. _You're not my father anymore_. The words still rang in his ears. They haunted his dreams and waking hours alike, and they got louder whenever he felt the pull of the bottle.

"The next day I went to my first AA meeting. The guy who became my sponsor later got me a spot in a treatment program, and I've been sober ever since. Not that it made a lot of difference with my kids. They still refuse to have anything to do with me. I don't know how many birthday cards, Christmas cards and letters I have written over the years, but I don't even know if they got them. I know that Nicole got into UC Berkley this fall, because I got the bill for her tuition fee, but that's all. They completely cut me out of their lives and I can't say that I blame them after what they saw."

His hands were resting on the table in front of him, balled into tight fists, and his gaze was glued to them. A single tear dropped onto the dark wood between his arms and it broke Sharon's heart. She placed both hands on his underarm, her thumbs drawing gentle circles on his bare skin as she tried to blink away her own tears. Her stomach twisted painfully at what Andy had been through, guilt settling onto her shoulders like an iron weight. She knew better than to accept sole responsibility for his problems and his estrangement from his children, and yet, she could not help but wonder how much of it was because of her, because of their affair.

"Andy, I'm so sorry. I wish I had known. Maybe if…"

He interrupted her with a shake of his head, his free hand covering hers where they still caressed his arm. "No! Don't do that, Sharon. None of what happened is your fault. I was an alcoholic long before that thing between us started. I just didn't know it. Back then, we all drank a lot. The fact that I lost control so completely wasn't your fault, nor was it Amanda's. The only one to blame for that is me. I was the one to drink. I was the one who let down his wife and children. I was the one who destroyed every bit of respect they had for me. Maybe one day they will see that I changed. Until then, I'll keep working for my sobriety every day, and I'll keep trying to be a man they won't have to be ashamed of calling their father. It's all I can do."

He sounded so incredibly resigned and hopeless, and Sharon wondered how many times he had opened his mailbox, hoping to find a letter from his kids, how often he had answered the phone or the door, hoping it was one of the children reaching out to him. How often had he sat at home alone, longing to share something he had done or seen with his son and daughter? She knew a little something about missing someone she loved, about being left behind and feeling unloved. But she had always had Emily and Ricky. She had never been alone, even when Jack had been gone or when she had felt like a part of her heart had been ripped out of her chest after leaving Andy.

"You are a wonderful man and a great father. One day, they will see that. You have to believe that." She had seen how good he was with children over the days they had been with him. He was patient and kind, funny and understanding, always having an open ear and a nice word for them. She had to believe that there was hope for him and his children to build the connection life had cruelly cheated them out of, and she wished that there was something she could do to help them accomplish that.

Before they could delve deeper into the past, the door opened and Ricky padded into the kitchen in his pyjamas, hair tousled and eyes puffy with sleep. He mumbled a quiet good morning, the second half of his greeting lost in the fridge as he opened it in search of breakfast. Sharon sighed, realizing that she would have to talk to her son about Andy and Emily before someone else did. Her daughter's parentage was the least of her worries at the moment, but as long as they were still hunting down leads, she had nothing else to do, anyway.

"Ricky, come here for a moment, please," she said, patting the chair beside her. He retreated from the fridge to glare at her, then threw another longing look into the fridge before he closed it and reluctantly joined his mother, pushing the chair as close to hers as possible, so he could snuggle into her side and rest his head on her shoulder. Under normal circumstances, he would consider himself too old for such blatant shows of affection towards his mother, but there were exceptions to what he thought of as his most important rule. Whenever he was sick or felt bad in any way, he would seek out her comforting embrace, allowing himself to be held and to believe that her arms had the power to make everything better.

As Sharon put her arm around her son, Andy rose from his chair with a soft smile on his face. He knew as well as Sharon how focused on food the boy was. "While you two have a chat, I'll see what I can do about breakfast. Eggs and bacon sound okay, Ricky?" The enthusiastic nod of the teenager was expected, and Andy walked over to the bench to collect everything he needed, Sharon's soft voice soothing his own soul.

 **~TBC~**


	13. Chapter 13

**Everything I Failed To Be**

 **Chapter Thirteen**

* * *

 **Time:** 7 June 1999

It was shortly after noon when they finally got a break in the case. The boy that had delivered the note the day before had given them a vague description of the homeless man who had handed the message to him. They had distributed the sketch that had been drawn to every patrol officer, but had not expected anything to come of it. The boy had been too unsure of the man's looks, and with the high number of homeless people in Los Angeles, it had been very unlikely that they would find the man. And yet, they had.

Samuel Walker had wandered into a Walmart to buy himself a set of new clothes with the money he had been paid for forwarding the message to Sharon. The store manager had been suspicious of him the moment he had walked into the store and had him detained by a security officer when Walker had attempted to try on a pair of pants. They had found seventy-five dollars on him and called the police, assuming that a man like that would only carry that kind of money if he had stolen it.

The officers who had been called to deal with the suspected thief had questioned him about the origin of the money, and after a while, they had gotten him to admit that a man had approached him the other day and offered to pay him a hundred dollars to get a message to some house in Valencia. Once they had brought him downtown to be questioned by Lieutenant Provenza, the puzzle pieces had begun to fall into place.

At first, the homeless man had been reluctant to talk to the police, but once Provenza had promised him that he was not in trouble and that he would be allowed to use the department gym's showers and get a set of fresh clothes in exchange for everything he could tell them about the person he had met with the day before, he had been only too happy to comply.

Walker had been able to give them a detailed description of the man who had given him the envelope with the note, and the car he had been driving. He had suspected that something was not entirely right with the guy, because who paid a hundred dollars to deliver a message when it could have been mailed just as easily? And who insisted on it going through more than one pair of hands before getting to its destination? He had thought it strange and a little suspicious, but he could not remember the last time he had seen that much money. It was hard to argue morality when one's stomach was empty. All he had seen was a decent meal and some new clothes that would give him a chance to get a job. No one hired a person wearing rags, after all.

The truly relevant part of Walker's statement had been that he had seen the man's car again only that morning. It had been parked on the property of an abandoned factory close to where he often hung out. Over the last few days, there had been an unusual amount of activity around the old buildings, but he had not thought much of it until he had spotted the familiar car.

After they had taken Mr. Walker's statement, they had him sit down with a sketch artist to draw a composite of the man who had paid him, while Provenza set everything in motion for a rescue operation. Then he called his partner to notify him about the most recent development. They did not have a lot of time. There was no way of telling how long Connolly's men would stay at that location. As a matter of fact, there were a lot of things they did not know, and that annoyed him almost as much as their previous lack of leads.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Andy briefly closed his eyes when he got off the phone with his partner. They had a lead and they were moving on it. SOB was already on the way and would scout the area and try to find out what they were dealing with as soon as they got there. Chances were very good that they had found the place where the Connollys kept Emily and would be able to start a rescue operation within the hour.

Provenza had tried to convince him to stay at home, because he was too involved in the case, but there was no way that would happen. It was his daughter they were talking about. He would not be sitting at home, twiddling his thumbs, wondering what was going on miles away. He did not have that kind of patience. Of course, his partner had known that. _Whatever. But if you do anything stupid, I'll cuff you to a lamp post_ , had been his gruff retort before he had hung up. Now Andy needed to tell Sharon what was about to happen and convince her that she could not come with him. He did not look forward to that conversation.

Andy found her in his small office, poring over some case files to kill time. Gently closing the door behind him, he walked over to her and leaned his hip against the side of the desk. Sharon had looked up at him the moment he had entered the room, her expression expectant, partly hope and partly dread. She raised one elegant eyebrow at him, a clear question, tinged with a hint of impatience. It made the corner of his mouth twitch a bit. Some things would never change. As different as they were in almost every way, a decided lack of patience was definitely something they had in common.

"Provenza just called," he said quietly. "They might have found the place where they're keeping Emily. My team and SOB are already on the move."

He had not even finished speaking when Sharon was already on her feet, trying to walk past him to the door. Andy pushed away from the desk to step in front of her, putting his hands on her upper arms to stop her. She glared up at him, attempting to shake his hold off. "Andy, why are we still standing around here? We need to go."

Maybe it would have been easier if he did not understand her need to rush to her daughter's aid, if he did not feel the urgency that was audible in her voice in every fiber of his own being. Only moments ago, he had shot down his partner's attempts at making him stay at home, so he knew what she would feel like, but there was no way around it. He might be a little too involved in the situation, but at least he was a trained police officer. Sharon had the training, but she had been inactive for almost two decades. Allowing her to accompany them would be a problem on so many levels.

"I'm sorry, Sharon, but you can't come with me." Andy shook his head when he saw that she was getting ready to protest and continued before she had a chance to speak. "You know as well as I do that you can't be part of this operation. I get it, okay? She's your baby and you want to protect her, but you've got to let us handle this."

She still looked as if she was about to push him out of her way and race off to rescue Emily. Drawing a deep breath, he briefly tightened his hold on her until he had her attention once again.

"Think about it. When was the last time you did any tactical training? You were one of the best damn cops I've ever worked with, but that was seventeen years ago. I'm sure you can still kick my ass at the shooting range, but that's not the same as being in the field and you know it. From what Provenza told me this is going to be a big op. We can't have someone walking around in the middle of that who doesn't know one hundred per cent what they're doing."

It was the harsh reality, and the sooner Sharon understood that, the sooner he would be able to join his team. The problem was not that she did not know all these things. She did. Sharon had always been a firm believer in rules and procedures. Intellectually, she knew that he was right. It was her heart that insisted on acting impulsively.

"Do you expect me to just sit at home and hope for the best? You can't ask me to do that," she pleaded, but he saw in the way her shoulders slumped slightly that she had already given in. He caressed her arm briefly, holding her eyes with his.

"I'm sorry, but you know I'm right this time. Besides, someone needs to keep an eye on Ricky. And who would be there for your kids if anything happened to you? Have you thought about that? How do you think Emily would feel if she had to watch her mother get shot?" His voice was soft and gentle, his hands gliding up and down her arms to try and reassure her as he sought out her eyes. Their usually luminous green was hauntingly pale, almost turquoise, through the tears that were only barely held at bay.

Sharon closed her eyes for a brief moment, nodding slightly, a long, shuddering breath escaping her. "You're right. I'm just…" She struggled to find the right words for what was going through her mind, but Andy got it. Sharon was a strong, independent woman. She was not used to standing by while others handled her problems. It simply was not in her nature.

"You have my word that I will do absolutely everything in my power to bring her home to you. You can trust me on this, okay?" He knew that it was no real comfort, no true reassurance, because in the end it was not entirely up to him. There were too many factors that would play into Emily's safe return, but he felt a little better when she nodded once more, a little more confident this time.

Sharon lowered her gaze to focus on his chest, one of her hands reaching out to smooth the fabric of his black button down. When she looked up once more, she stared at him for a long moment, her expression caught somewhere between pensive and frightened. Then she seemed to come to some sort of conclusion. Her fingers caressed his cheek, before she cupped his face in both hands, holding his eyes with her own.

"I do trust you, Andy. Just promise me that you will _both_ come home," she implored. He could not remember her looking more adorable than in that moment. Her lower lip was caught between her teeth and her expression was full of uncertainty with an undercurrent of something else, something that made his chest tighten with hope and spread a pleasant warmth inside his belly.

He carefully tugged her towards him, holding his breath as he hoped that he was not overstepping the invisible line that their past and the many years of separation had drawn between them. When she willingly stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him, her head resting against his chest, he sighed in relief. Maybe the line was finally moving again, just a little bit.

For a long moment, they held each other in a tight embrace, drawing comfort from one another, before he reluctantly stepped back. In the hallway outside the office door, two of his fellow detectives were getting restless, yelling for him to hurry up or they would leave without him. Tugging a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, he drew courage from her soft smile and once again closed the distance between them. His lips brushed hers in a tender kiss, too brief to be intimate, but full of promise. They still had a long way to go, many things to talk about, but maybe it was possible for them to move forward together and claim the future they had denied each other seventeen years earlier. With a last smile at her slightly blushed face, he turned around and left to bring their daughter home.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Andy found the field command center on a side street around the corner from the abandoned factory their suspects occupied. It consisted of two vans and several unmarked cars, while the majority of officers had left their cars up and down the surrounding streets to avoid drawing too much attention to their location. He walked into organized chaos as he climbed into one of the vans. Provenza, their captain and the head of SOB were bent over a map of the area, marking down anything their reconnaissance teams had been able to spot so far.

He slapped his partner on the back as he leaned over his shoulder to get a look at what they were facing. There were two factory halls on the property, each having several doors on all sides and a row of windows too high up for anyone to climb in or out. They were also too dirty to be of much use for finding out what was going on inside. Several cars were parked between both buildings, indicating that they could expect at least four people inside, if not more. Shortly before Andy arrived they had finally gotten their hands on the original floor plans of the two large sheds, making it a lot easier to plan their approach.

One of their biggest concerns was that they did not know exactly what they would find inside. According to the plans, one building was nothing more than a large shed with no additional rooms or floors. The other one had several offices and smaller storage rooms on one side of what was marked as the packaging area.

Provenza had spoken to the real estate agent who managed the complex to get as much information on it as possible. He had told them that, as far as he knew, the shed at the front of the property should be empty as the production machines had been sold off years ago. The second building still housed several large packaging machines. He had sent them photos he had taken years ago when he had taken over responsibility for the property. Whether or not it still looked anything like that, he had not been able to tell, since he had not been there in over a year. There was no telling what had happened in the meantime. The complex had been locked, but that seldom kept anyone with enough determination from getting inside.

SWAT was in position just outside the perimeter with several guys, some of them occupying the roofs of surrounding buildings to keep an eye on the situation from above. They were currently waiting for the thermal imaging guy to show up so they could figure out where exactly their suspects were and how many they were dealing with. They also hoped to learn if Emily was in one of those buildings or not. Once they had that information, they would come up with a strategy for taking them down without risking any innocent lives in the process. Until then, all they could do was wait.

Someone had made a coffee run earlier, so Flynn and Provenza retreated to Andy's car for a few quiet moments. As they sipped their beverages in silence, Louis gave him strange looks, as if he was trying to figure something out. It started to grate on his nerves after a while. "What?" he barked at his partner, glaring at him. The older man huffed at the outburst and rolled his eyes before he decided to voice his concerns.

"Are you sure it's a good idea for you to go in there with us?" he asked, his voice much friendlier than it usually was. He was truly concerned about his friend and partner. He did not have all the information, but even a blind man could see that there was something going on between him and that annoying lawyer lady. Andy had been unusually tight-lipped about their past when he had asked him weeks ago, after their first run in with Sharon Raydor. All he would say on the matter was that they used to be partners. In the days since she and her brood had moved in with Andy, it had become apparent that there was a lot more to the story.

The car was silent for an endless minute as both men sipped from their Styrofoam cups. "I promised Sharon that I would bring Emily home," Andy explained quietly. "Look, I get why you're worried, but I won't do anything stupid, okay? It's not just that I care about Sharon. Emily… she's mine. I just found out that I have another kid, and I want to have a chance to get to know her."

So it was true. Earlier that day, Louis had overheard two of the officers that had been at the house over night talk about a surprising bit of information. At the time he had thought they were idiots who were running their mouths, but it seemed as if they had been right. It was pretty clear what should be done next. Provenza knew that he should go to their captain, report what he had learned and get Andy removed from the operation. However, they had been partners for years, and they trusted one another. Flynn was impulsive and hot-headed, but he was neither stupid nor reckless. If he thought that Andy would put himself at risk unnecessarily, he would rat him out in a heartbeat, but he didn't and he wouldn't. He was old school that way, preferring to take care of things without involving the higher ups. He would just have to keep and eye on the fool.

"Okay, fine. But you'd better not get yourself shot. I don't want to deal with that woman if I dare to bring you home in less than pristine condition," he grumbled, his attention already drawn to the officers that were gathering a few yards down the road. It looked like they were getting ready to move. Provenza did not bother to acknowledge his partner's quiet thank you as he hastily drank the last sip of his almost cold coffee and started to get out of the car. "Let's go get your kid. I hope she hasn't got her old man's tendency to piss people off," he added as he wandered off to join the others.

The area around the two vans was abuzz with energy. Officers put on vests and checked their equipment as the division commanders went over their final plans once again. The thermal images had revealed that they were dealing with six people inside the second building. Five were located at the back of the factory floor, far enough away from the machines to make them easy to take out. That was, unless there was anything there that was not in the photos they had seen and had not been picked up by the thermal images. In that case they would have a problem.

A sixth person was sitting on the other side of the large room, closer to the offices. From the size of that person and the way they sat, it was likely to be Emily. Everyone had been relieved to find her there and see that she was still alive. What was even better was the distance between her and the other people. It would give them a better chance to extract her safely. That was why they were moving so quickly. They did not want to risk losing the advantage.

Everyone took their positions outside the building, making sure every door was covered by several SWAT officers. Andy and Provenza had joined three SWAT guys at the entrance closest to their hostage and were anxiously waiting for the signal to go ahead. They knew that another two officers stood a few feet behind them. They would remain outside to make sure none of their suspects made a run for it.

Andy felt the blood pulse through his body, his heart beating faster and his breaths deepening in anticipation of what was to come. He pushed every unnecessary thought out of his mind, focusing on the task at hand, visualizing the steps they would take to rescue the hostage. To claim that he was able to completely forget the fact that Emily was his daughter would have been a lie. It was a niggling thought at the back of his mind, urging him to succeed. It was a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach, warning him of the consequences of failure.

He heard Provenza's radio next to him, and his muscles tensed as he readied himself. One of the SWAT guys, Hendrix, kicked in the door, and his two buddies stormed past him, guns ready, covering the rest of them. Flynn and Provenza hurried in right behind them, making their way along the wall towards their hostage. The third SWAT officer was beside them, keeping an eye on the factory floor while the two detectives checked the rooms on their other side. The carefully tried every closed door, finding all of them locked.

From the other end of the building they could hear shouts and gunfire, but he paid little attention to it. He was almost completely focused on the frightened girl that was tied to a chair about twenty feet ahead of him. It was hard to fight the urge to run to her, but his training was too much a part of him to take that risk. He moved as quickly as he dared, forcing his eyes away from hers to watch his surroundings, making sure he had his colleagues' backs.

What felt like endless minutes later, they finally reached Emily, and Andy knelt down next to her, hastily shoving his gun back into the holster before he started to work on the knots that tied her hands and feet to the chair. Her quiet whimpers were barely audible above the almost deafening sound of raised voices and gunshots.

Just as Andy had loosened the rope around Emily's ankles, Hendrix shouted a warning to someone and then took off towards one of the large machines not far from them. One of the suspects must have made it over to this side of the room. He felt Provenza draw closer to them, shielding them with his body, and he worked even faster to untie the girl's hands. As soon as she was free, Emily flung her arms around his neck, holding on to him for dear life. He held her briefly, feeling relief rushing through. She was alive. Now they just had to get her outside.

Gently disentangling himself from her, Andy quickly checked her for obvious injuries and, finding her unharmed, he placed both hands on her upper arms and sought out her eyes. "I've got you, kid. You'll be fine, but we need to get you out of here. Are you okay to walk?" he asked, his voice firm but reassuring. The girl was pale, her brown eyes red-rimmed and swimming with tears. Her lower lip was dark red and cracked in several places as if she had been chewing on it. Her mother used to do that when she was younger, Andy remembered, but pushed the thought aside as soon as it appeared. Emily nodded, her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt sleeves. He wished that he did not have to let go of her, but they needed to move. Quickly taking off his vest, Andy slipped it over the girl's head, closing it tightly at her sides. It was too big for her, but it would get the job done. He patted her arms once again, making sure she was ready to go.

"Good. I need you to stay close to me and do exactly what I tell you. Can you do that?" When she nodded again, Andy tightened his grip on her arms briefly before he let go. Reaching for his gun, he looked around to see what the situation was with the rest of their team.

There were two suspects down that he could see from his location, but he had yet to hear the all clear, so they had to assume that the others were still at large. Signaling his partner that they were ready to leave, Andy started moving back the way they had come, making sure that Emily was right beside him. Provenza was slightly in front of them as they progressed towards the door and the promise of safety that lay beyond as quickly as they dared.

They were almost at the entrance. The soft breeze already brushed over him, pleasantly cool on his flushed skin, drying the sweat that had started running down his face and neck. It would only take a few more steps before they would walk out into the sunlight. He heard Provenza utter a quiet heads-up into his radio to make sure the SWAT officers outside would not shoot them once they stepped out.

It was instinct more than anything that shaped the following moments. Out of the corner of his eye, Andy saw something move behind a row of crates. Before he could fully turn to face the person, he spotted the metallic glint of a gun being pointed at them. Shouting a warning out to Provenza, Andy spun back towards Emily. He pushed her to the ground and went down right after her, intending to cover her body with his. Several shots were fired behind him, before his elbows hit the ground next to the girl in an attempt to avoid crushing her. The impact was hard, sending an unpleasant jolt through his entire body and making him bite his tongue.

When he looked up, Andy saw Provenza return fire. Just one shot and he heard the other guy drop. That was his partner, he thought proudly. Usually, it annoyed him that the other man frequently outshot him at the range, but he was one hell of a guy to have at one's back.

Several other officers ran over to their part of the building. One of them kicked the gun out of the dead man's hand, while Provenza rushed to their side, to give him a hand up, Andy hoped. His head was spinning and his vision was a little blurry, and beneath him, Emily started to groan. He wondered if she had maybe hit her head when she went down. Her mother would kill him if he brought her home with a concussion.

"Flynn," his partner yelled. "Damnit, someone call an ambulance. We've got an officer down." The older man knelt down beside them and helped him roll to the side enough so that Emily could slip out. Andy was glad about that, because he had a hard time not collapsing and he would hate to crush his own daughter to death. Her mother would hate that even more. He could practically hear her yelling at him. He liked it when Sharon got riled up. She was hot when she was angry. Andy chuckled at the thought, but it turned into a loud groan when someone pressed something against his back, making pain shoot up and down his right side. "Son of a bitch," he yelled, turning his head slightly to glare at his partner.

"You've been shot, you idiot," Provenza retorted. "What did I tell you about getting shot? Don't get shot, I said. Don't force me to deal with your girlfriend, I said. That wasn't even half an hour ago, and here we are. What is wrong with…"

"Shut up, please! You're giving me a headache," Andy interrupted, wondering why his tongue felt so thick in his mouth. It was hard to focus on anything, but he noticed Emily kneeling right next to Provenza, tears streaming down her face as she held his hand in an ice-cold grip. She looked just like her mother, he mused, still in awe at the thought that she was his daughter.

Squeezing her hand slightly, Andy gave her a lopsided smile, his voice low and the words slightly slurred as he spoke. "Don't worry, sweetheart. It doesn't hurt all that much. It's gonna be fine."

There were two of them, and they were both fuzzy around the edges, and he wished they would stop spinning. And what was that roaring sound? It annoyed the hell out of him and made his head pound even more. Somewhere in the distance, he heard voices, but he didn't understand what they were saying. He was so tired. Maybe he would just close his eyes for a few minutes. His body felt almost weightless, and the pain had finally gone away.

It was good…

Maybe he would dream of Sharon…

He loved dreaming of Sharon...

He loved Sharon…

Andy smiled as he drifted off.

 **~TBC~**


	14. Chapter 14

**Everything I Failed To Be**

 **Chapter Fourteen**

* * *

Sharon Raydor was not a very patient person, and she hated nothing more than to sit around and wait. Incidentally, that was precisely what she had been forced to do for the last two hours, ever since Andy had left. She was ready to climb the walls, and she definitely was not the only one. The officers who had stayed behind to protect them were getting antsy as well. Their colleagues were in the middle of a dangerous rescue mission and they were stuck babysitting an irritable mother and her sulking, teenaged son. Sharon would feel bad for them, but she was too busy trying to keep control over her temper.

She had tried to work for a little while, but her mind had kept wandering to Emily and Andy. The fact that Ricky had been watching television had not been particularly helpful, either. She had not wanted to leave him alone and work in Andy's office, however. Her son had been quiet most of the day, which indicated more than anything else how frightened he was. Although his eyes were glued to the television, she could tell that he was not really paying attention. It was one of his favorite Science fiction shows, which usually had him more engaged. Instead, he stared at the screen with a somewhat vacant expression. Occasionally, he would cast a concerned glance at her, and when she had given up on working and joined him on the couch, he had scooted closer to her and snuggled into her side until she put her arm around him.

They had been sitting like that for almost an hour. Her fingers absentmindedly combed through Ricky's hair as she tried to keep her thought from lingering on all the things that could possibly go wrong with the operation that was currently under way. It was almost impossible. Too many troubling images were all too clear at the back of her mind. Not for the first time did she wish that she had insisted on accompanying Andy. Even if she had just sat in a car down the road, it would have been better than being so far away without any information.

Ricky shifted a little at her side, craning his neck to look up at her. "Mom, it's been ages. Why is this taking so long?" he whined, trying to hide his concern behind impatience. As a teenager, he had a hard time admitting that he was scared about what might happen to his sister, but Sharon was able to see how it ate at him, and her heart ached for him.

"I know, honey, but these things take time. There's a lot more planning involved in operations like that than you see on TV. They want to make sure no one gets hurt. I'm sure Andy will call soon, though. We'll just have to be patient for a little while longer."

Her son groaned and, rolling his eyes, he let his head fall back against her chest. "I hate waiting," he grumbled, before he let his attention return to the television screen.

"Me, too, honey," she agreed, her voice quiet and soothing.

It was getting late, and the last couple of days of no more than the occasional, short nap was beginning to take a toll on Sharon. Her eyes burned painfully, the headache that had been building up since Emily's disappearance had reached a new high, and the tension in her back and shoulders was almost unbearable. It was not surprising that she nodded off at some point, lulled into a fitful sleep by the heavy breathing of her sleeping son.

The ringing of the phone jolted her awake a little while later, and she was on her feet even before she had fully woken up. Ricky grunted as he was nudged to the side, blearily looking after her. She had left the phone on its charging station on the small table next to the living room door earlier. As she picked it up, the two officers who were in the house with them joined her, just as eager to get some news as she was.

"Yes?" she almost barked into the phone, not bothering to hide her impatience. Andy would understand, she knew.

"We've got her. She's fine," was the answer she got in a quiet, friendly voice. Sharon sagged against the small table, releasing the breath she had been holding. A second later, when she got over the initial relief that her daughter was okay, she realized what it might mean that it was not Andy on the other end of the phone, but his unusually nice partner.

Her breath caught in her throat once again, her lungs burning as she pressed her free hand against her chest, closing her eyes to try and shake off the unsettling images her mind came up with. "Lieutenant, where's Andy?" she managed to ask in a breathless whisper, already dreading his answer.

Provenza's irritated huff preceded his grumbled response, confirming her fears. "The idiot threw himself in front of a bullet and got shot. He's on his way to St. Leo's right now. That's where I'll be taking Emily now to get her checked out. Tell your babysitters to give you and the kid a ride and we'll meet you there."

Three words played in an infinite loop inside her head, bringing with them countless scenarios, one worse than the other. _He got shot_. That could mean just about anything, but the fact that Andy had not called her himself indicated that it was more than a simple scratch. Provenza sounded more annoyed than seriously worried, but from what she had learned about him since she met him for the first time, that could be his way of coping with his own concern. He did not strike her as someone who liked to get emotional in any way, especially with people he barely tolerated.

"What do you mean he got shot?" she asked, her voice raw and close to breaking. "How bad is it? Is he…" Sharon could not bring herself to finish that question.

The man on the other end of the line sighed. "I don't know. He was hit in the back when he shielded Emily. The idiot wasn't wearing his vest, because he gave it to her." The Lieutenant paused, taking a deep breath as he considered his next words. "He lost consciousness before the paramedics got there, but he was still alive when they took them away. We won't know more until we get there, so I suggest you pack a few things for him and meet me at the hospital."

Provenza did not wait for her reply before he hung up. Sharon let her hand slowly sink down, the phone still held in an iron grip. Her thoughts were a panicked jumble for a long moment, before she managed to pull herself together and focus on the necessary steps. Her little girl was on the way to the hospital, and she was probably scared and traumatized. Whatever else was going on, she needed to be with her daughter.

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Sharon and Ricky sat in the back of the squad car, her boy's hand firmly clasped in her own as they made their way through LA traffic. It was frustrating to sit idly in a slow-moving car when, on the other end of town, her daughter was waiting for her, and the man that she was beginning to fall in love with once again was possibly slipping away from her. Her heart was torn between worrying about her child and Andy. Not knowing was probably worse than anything. Lieutenant Provenza had assured her that Emily was unharmed and, although that would not stop Sharon from wanting to be by her side, it at least gave her a little peace of mind. What about Andy, though? What would she find upon arrival at the hospital?

She found Provenza in the emergency room, keeping an eye on Emily as he had promised. A nurse had led her and Ricky to a bed at the back of the large room. Once they stepped through the privacy curtain, she saw her little girl laying on the bed, her dark blue jeans and green shirt smudged with dirt and torn in several places. She was pale, her eyes wide with fear and reddened from crying.

Sharon rushed to her side, dropped the small overnight bag she was carrying onto the floor, and hugged her daughter tightly. For a brief moment she was worried that she might hurt the girl, but Emily held onto her just as fiercely, burying her face in her mother's hair and clutching the fabric of her jacket in her fists.

After a long moment, Sharon reluctantly pulled back to take a closer look at Emily. There was a cut on her forehead over her right eyebrow, and a large bruise was forming around it. There were a few scratches and bruises on her hands and arms, but apart from that she really seemed to be okay. Most of the cuts and bruises looked very fresh, making Sharon suspect that she might have sustained them when Andy had taken her down to keep her from being shot. She remembered what it felt like to be pushed to the ground by a hundred and eighty pounds of man, and that had been during tactical training when she had been prepared for it.

Emily's wounds had already been taken care of, and she was set up with an IV drip. Fluids, Sharon supposed.

"Hey, baby," she said, her hands combing through Emily's slightly tousled, dark curls. "You have no idea how happy I am to have you back. We were so worried." Cupping her cheeks, Sharon smiled at the girl, relief flooding every cell of her body as she finally got to hold her precious little princess once again.

Emily's lower lip trembled slightly, and she drew it between her teeth, her eyes filling with fresh tears. "Mom, I'm so sorry," she cried. "This is all my fault. It's my fault that Andy got hurt." Burying her face in her mother's hair once again, the girl sobbed uncontrollably, and Sharon wished that there was something she could do to make her feel better besides hold her. Her hands stroked Emily's back in soothing circles as she gently swayed, whispering meaningless things into her ear until the sobbing eased a little bit.

"It's not your fault, baby. Andy got hurt doing his job. It wasn't the first time, and it probably won't be the last time, either," Sharon tried to ease the girl's guilt. As hard as it was to think about the possibility of him getting hurt again, she really wished that he would be able continue doing his job, to act like a hero and scare her out of her mind. The idea of losing him was simply beyond comprehension at that moment. They had only just found each other again.

A few steps away from the bed, Provenza cleared his throat discretely, to draw Sharon's attention. When she met his gaze over her daughter's shoulder, he gave her a brief nod and gestured towards the exit. "Now that you're here, I'll see if I can find someone to tell me what's going on with Flynn. Sergeant Baker is keeping an eye on that situation, but I'll feel better if I can get some answers myself. Baker's just gonna let the nurses walk all over him with their rules. I'll let you know as soon as there's news." With those words, he turned around and walked away, leaving the three remaining occupants of the room with hopes for answers.

A little while later, a nurse entered the small cubicle, pushing a wheelchair in front of him. He barely blinked as he spotted the newcomer sitting on his patient's bed. Instead, the burly man in his dark blue scrubs smiled at the girl and her mother as he stepped up to the bed, grabbing the chart that was hanging at the foot of the bed on the way. With his free hand he gently grasped Emily's left wrist and took her pulse, making a note on the chart after a few seconds. Then he checked the IV drip before he unhooked it and carefully moved the bag to the stand attached to the wheelchair. All the while, he cheerfully updated Sharon on her daughter's condition. The man's jovial tone grated slightly on her already frazzled nerves, but she bit down the snarky remark that was on the tip of her tongue. He was simply doing his job and trying to make them feel better. It was not his fault that she did not feel particularly cheerful at the moment. All that mattered to her was that he gave her the relevant information.

Emily had arrived at the emergency room with several cuts and bruises, none of which were cause for concern, except the one on her forehead. After initial tests, the doctor had concluded that she had a light concussion, but he had ordered a CT scan to make sure that they did not miss anything. They had also drawn some blood and were waiting for the lab results on that. Since she had been slightly dehydrated upon arrival, they had hooked her up with an IV to replace the fluids she had lost. Once the CT scan was clear, the doctor would release her to her mother's care.

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It was almost two hours later that Sharon, Emily and Ricky met Lieutenant Provenza in the OR waiting area. They sat down on the seats across from the older man. The two officers who were keeping an eye on them nodded at their superior officer before they took up positions a little farther away from the group.

Emily stretched out on the seats beside Sharon, her head resting on her thigh. The girl was exhausted, the fear and adrenaline of the last day finally leaving her system. She was asleep moments later, her face relaxing into a completely peaceful expression. Sharon buried one hand in her thick, dark curls, letting her fingers draw soothing circles against the girl's scalp.

It only took Ricky a few minutes to follow his sister's example and stretch out on Sharon's other side, the tension melting away more and more with every second he spent with his sister. They might argue a lot, and they might complain about one another, but they still loved each other very much. Even though he did not show it openly, Emily's disappearance had been very hard on her son.

She allowed herself a brief moment of peace, closing her own eyes in a quiet prayer of thanks that she had both her children with her once again. All too soon the reality of their situation came back to her, however. All the worry, all the fears of losing Andy, everything she had managed to push to the back of her mind while taking care of Emily came rushing back all at once, almost taking her breath away.

When she opened her eyes again and met those of the Lieutenant across from her, she saw her concern reflected in his dark gaze. Her wordless question was answered with a heavy sigh, before his gruff voice filled the space between them. "They're still working on him. He coded twice on the table, but they got him back both times. Last I heard, they had gotten the bleeding under control and were starting to close him. That was a few minutes before you got here. I guess they should be done soon. The nurse said that his surgeon would come out to update us as soon as possible."

Sharon nodded, unable to speak as his words sank in. She kept thinking about their last moments together, about he solid feeling of his chest under her hands and the quiet rumble of his voice. He had promised to come home to her. The thought of never hearing his voice again, of never feeling his arms around her, of never getting to explore what they might be together, was inconceivable. She was perfectly capable of living without a man in her life. She was even able to live without Andy, as the last seventeen years had proven, but she did not want to. With the possibility of losing him so real, she realized more and more that she wanted a future with him.

Provenza seemed to pick up on her thoughts somehow, or maybe it was something Andy had said to him. He gave her an understanding smile – at least as far as his features were capable of producing one. She still thought that the frown was permanently etched onto his face. "Whatever happens, you have to know that getting his kid out of there meant everything to him. He promised you to bring her home, and he intended to keep that promise. Even if it shouldn't end well for him, he would not die for nothing. He's a noble idiot, who wouldn't see it as a sacrifice to die for his daughter. I told him that he had no business being part of that operation, but he wouldn't listen. Truth be told, if he hadn't been so stubborn, chances are good that the outcome would have been different."

He cast a quick look at the sleeping girl next to her, his sad expression indication enough of what he meant. If Andy had not insisted on going against the rules, their daughter might very well be dead now. That was exactly why Andy had insisted on her staying at home. She would have done exactly that, taken a bullet for one of her kids without a moment's hesitation. He had not wanted her to risk that, not when there was another child waiting for her at home. She was needed, and, stupidly enough, he seemed to have thought that he was not. How could he not know? How could he be unaware of how much he was needed? How much he was wanted?

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she stared at the other man helplessly. They did not like one another very much. Something between them simply did not fit. They had the tendency to annoy the crap out of each other, but on one thing they saw eye to eye; they cared deeply for Andy Flynn. Louis Provenza was possibly the only person in the world who knew how deep the feelings between her and Andy really ran. He might have chosen to ignore it in the past, to ignore the lingering looks and caresses they had shared over the last few weeks, but he was neither blind nor stupid. The next few days would be hard for her, he knew. She would feel torn between taking care of her children and being with Andy. Louis decided that he would try his best to help her out – at least as much as she would let him, as it seemed that his friend had finally found a woman who more than matched his stubborn nature.

It was another half an hour before Andy's doctor joined them in the waiting area. The only other occupants had left a little while ago, so the woman walked straight towards them, looking back and forth between Provenza and Sharon, obviously trying to figure out who to address. The Lieutenant rose from his seat and motioned for her to step closer to where Sharon sat, still immobilized by her sleeping children. They shook hands and introduced themselves before Doctor Reynolds began to quietly update them on Andy's status.

"Mr. Flynn sustained a gunshot wound to his back. The bullet did some damage to his liver and right kidney, but we were able to repair that. We will have to keep an eye on the kidney, but its function should not be impaired. One of the larger blood vessels was nicked, which resulted in some serious blood loss, but we managed to fix that as well." The woman, who looked to be about Sharon's age, took a deep breath, letting her gaze drift over the children who were stretched out on the seats on either side of their mother. When she went on, her voice was serious, but her expression did not seem overly concerned.

"He will stay in recovery for a few hours before we will move him to the ICU. We will keep a close eye on him for the next hours to make sure we did not miss anything, but if he's still doing well tomorrow evening, there's no reason to believe he won't make a full recovery." She paused briefly, giving Sharon and Provenza a moment to digest the information.

"I won't lie to you. He has a long road ahead of him until he will be back on his feet again. Once he is conscious we will have to discuss a pain management plan. According to his medical file, he does not want to take opiates. For now, we have him on some non-narcotic pain medication, but we will have to see if that's going to be enough in the long run."

Sharon released a long breath, relief washing over her. He was alive, and he probably would be all right. Everything else they would deal with when they got there, as long as he was still with them. She nodded slowly, letting all the information sink in before she looked up at the blonde woman in front of her. "When can we see him?" she asked. The need to see, with her own eyes, that he was still breathing, to feel his warm skin and his steady heartbeat under her hands was almost overwhelming.

The doctor gave her a sympathetic smile. "Once we move him to the ICU he can have visitors. That's still going to be a little while. Maybe you should get some rest until then. If you leave your number, we will make sure to inform you of any changes," she replied kindly.

They thanked the doctor and watched her walk away, silence descending on their small corner of the world once more. After a little while, Provenza looked down at Sharon, narrowing his eyes slightly as he spoke. "You should go home and get some sleep. You look like hell."

Sharon snorted at his gruff words. She could be insulted, but he was probably right about that. If she only looked half as bad as he did, he definitely had a point. Her first instinct was to tell him to mind his own business, that she would stay right there until Andy woke up. If she had been alone, she would probably have done exactly that. However, she also had to think about her children. They were both exhausted, and Emily was still shaken up about what had happened to her. They should at least get a decent meal and a few hours of sleep in a proper bed.

Reluctantly, she agreed, making him promise that he would call her the moment something changed or Andy woke up. Her heart ached at the thought of leaving, but when she looked into the tired faces of her children, who struggled to wake up enough to make it to the car, she knew that it was the right choice, no matter how hard it was. And maybe she would feel a little more like herself after a few hours of rest, as well. With her arms around Emily's and Ricky's shoulders, she followed one member of her protection detail to the exit, the other man walking a few steps behind them. It occurred to her that she had no idea how the case against the Connollys was coming along, but that was something that would have to wait a few more hours. For the moment, they were all safe, and that was all that counted.

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It was early afternoon by the time Sharon and her kids made it back to the hospital. She and Ricky had been up after only a few hours of sleep. However, Emily had not come downstairs until noon, when the smell of her favorite pasta sauce had floated through the house, and she had not wanted to wake her. They had quickly eaten and then given the girl time to take the shower she had been too exhausted for the night before. Sharon had suggested that they could stay at home with their protection detail, but both kids had insisted on accompanying her. She had a feeling that they might need to see Andy as much as she did. Over the last two weeks, they had gotten used to having him around. He had become an important part of their lives, probably more so than they were aware of.

Sharon had called Provenza while they were on their way to let him know they would join him soon. Since she had last spoken to him earlier that morning, Andy had been moved to the ICU and had already been awake for a few minutes. They had met up in the corridor outside of the ICU, the older man looking even worse than he had the night before. The way he held himself, Sharon was sure that he had fallen asleep in a chair, leaving his back and neck stiff and aching. She would get him to give her an update and then she would insist that he went home and got some sleep.

The Lieutenant showed them to Andy's room, followed closely by two officers once again. They stopped in front of the door, the small glass window allowing them to look inside the room. Provenza quietly filled her in on the last hours, making her smile as she pictured Andy babbling incoherently when he was still under the influence of the sedation.

"Why don't you go and sit with him for a bit? The nurse is very nice and she seems to like me. I'm sure I can convince her to make an exception to the rules for you, so that you can take both kids inside with you."

Sharon gave him a grateful smile as she brushed her hands down both children's backs. They stood close to her, casting cautious glances around themselves. She was glad that she would not have to let either of them out of her sight yet. "Thank you, Lieutenant. That's very kind of you. Maybe once you worked your magic on the nurse, you should go home for a few hours. You look like you could use a hot shower and a bed," she replied, her eyes twinkling with humor at the scowl her words provoked.

"I will go home, but not because you suggested it," he grumbled before he turned and walked away to find the nurse he seemed to be so fond of.

With a smile on her lips, Sharon gently nudged her kids to move into Andy's room and closed the door behind them. There were only two chairs, and once they had moved both closer to the bed, she tugged Emily down to sit on her lap. Even though she was older than her brother, her slight built made her considerably less heavy, but she knew that the situation would become uncomfortable only too soon. For the moment, she enjoyed holding her girl close.

They sat in silence for a while, occasionally interrupted by Ricky's questions about the machines surrounding Andy's bed and Emily's need to be reassured that he would really be okay. Sharon realized that she would have to talk to her daughter sooner rather than later. Now that the truth about her parentage was out there, she needed to be told. The longer she waited, the higher the risk that someone else would let something slip, and that was not how the girl should find out.

There already had been quiet moments since they had been reunited the day before, moments that would have been perfect for this kind of talk, but she had wanted Emily to rest, to regain at least some sense of safety before her world was turned upside down once again. In all honesty, a large part of her hesitation was probably cowardice. How do you tell your child that you lied about who their father was all their life? However she would do it, she decided to approach that problem once Andy had woken up again. She would focus on one headache at a time.

Her legs had just begun to fall asleep when there was movement on the bed, followed by a groan. Before Sharon could push Emily off her lap, the girl was on her feet, standing awkwardly by her side, her hands sliding into the pockets of her black jeans. In the chair at the foot of the bed, Ricky sat up straight, eyes wide as the motion had startled him awake from a light nap.

Sharon carefully sat on the edge of the bed, one hand closing around Andy's, the other resting against his chest to keep him still. His eyebrows were drawn together and his teeth were clenched tightly, the muscles at the back of his jaw twitching. Slowly, he opened his eyes, blinking at the harsh lights. "Son of a bitch," he cursed, his voice deep and raspy.

Behind her, Ricky snorted, partly amused at the language adults were not supposed to use, and partly relieved, she guessed. She decided to ignore his reaction and the older man's inappropriate words. Andy was in pain, he would get a pass for the moment.

"Hey," she greeted him quietly. "Don't try to move too much. You just had surgery." He drew his brows together even more as he tried to recall what had happened. When his memories returned, his eyes went wide and he stared at her, almost panicked. Before he could ask, she gently caressed his cheek, trying to calm him.

"Emily is fine. You saved her. You brought her home to me." Her voice was soft, trembling almost unnoticeably with the fear she was still trying to let go of. Next to her, Emily stepped forward a little, a shy smile on her face when Andy's eyes landed on her and he relaxed, relieved to see with his own eyes that she was fine.

"Hey kid," he greeted her, his lips twitching towards a small smile. He was still trying to get his body to do what he wanted it to do. His limbs felt heavy and his muscles were slow to respond. At least his mind started clearing, the events that had led to him being in hospital coming back to him and the people around him becoming less fuzzy around the edges with every passing second. Unfortunately, the more awareness he gained, the more persistent the pain got. For the moment, he tried not to focus on that too much, however. There were things he needed to know, things he needed to say, before he could pass out again.

First and foremost in his mind was his concern for the girl they had spent one of the longest days of his life trying to find. He looked at her closely, noticing her awkward stance with her hands in her pockets, so much like her mother. What drew his attention, however, was the large bruise on her forehead, bringing back one of the last coherent thoughts he could recall having before he had passed out.

"I'm sorry for taking you down so hard," he apologized, his voice heavy with regret. "I hope it's not hurting too much?"

Sharon and Emily both snorted a laugh at his words, the former sounding suspiciously as if she was trying hard not to cry.

"Oh my god! Are you for real?" The girl rolled her eyes at the ridiculous question. "You realize that you're the one who got shot, right? I think I got off easy. Besides, Mom always says I have a hard head, so yeah, I'm good." She hesitated a moment, shuffling her feet a little before she looked up at him through her lashes. "Thank you," she added, the teasing note gone from her tone as she held his gaze for several heartbeats. It seemed as if no one was breathing for a while as some sort of understanding seemed to pass between the two.

It was Ricky who interrupted the moment, speaking for the first time since Andy had woken up. "Well, at least your old man gives a crap about you," he remarked offhandedly before his eyes widened in shock and he stared at his mother. They had talked about this. Sharon had asked him not to say anything to Emily before she had a chance to talk to her. That was exactly why he preferred not to know things. Being ignorant was not such a bad thing, really.

Sharon flinched when she realized what her son had just said. Her eyes closed for a second before she cast a careful glance at her daughter to gauge her reaction. She was prepared for the full scale of the girl's temper, bracing herself for the questions and accusations. To her utter surprise, Emily simply shrugged and gave them a half smile.

"Yeah, I guess I'm the lucky one," she said as if it was common knowledge that Andy was her father.

The two adults shared a puzzled look, his hand squeezing hers in support. Sharon reached out her free hand to briefly caress her daughter's arm, still not quite believing how calmly she was dealing with the situation. "How did you… Why didn't you say anything if you knew, honey?" she asked cautiously, part of her still expecting an explosion.

The girl simply shrugged. "I heard you and Lieutenant Provenza talk last night when you thought I was asleep. I already suspected something before. It's not like I'm blind, you know. You should see yourself when you look at the two of us together, Mom." She gestured between her and Andy, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Sharon pressed her fingers against her mouth, her eyes tearing up as she looked at her baby. When had she grown up? It felt as if it was only yesterday that she had held her for the first time, that she had looked into those beautiful brown eyes and known deep down whose daughter she was.

"Look," Emily broke the slightly awkward silence. "I'm not saying that it isn't weird or that I'm not upset about not having been told earlier. I guess you had your reasons and, knowing you, I'm sure we'll talk about all that soon. I can't promise that I won't get mad at some point, but right now I don't want to think too much about it. Maybe we can discuss what it all means when Andy is feeling better," she suggested, shrugging as her gaze switched back and forth between the two adults.

"On that note, I'm kind of thirsty. Do you think Ricky and I can borrow one of our shadows out there and check out the cafeteria situation?"

Sharon almost laughed at the abrupt change of topic. It was an obvious attempt to escape the uncomfortable situation, but she decided to let her get way with it. Trying to address the issue at that moment would not be a wise idea. Neither one of them was feeling particularly well. It would only lead to an argument they were not up to. For the moment, Emily seemed prepared to accept things for what they were, and Sharon would be grateful for that.

"Of course, honey," she replied, picking up her purse from where it rested at her feet to dig out her wallet and hand her daughter a twenty dollar bill. "Just promise to stick to the officer and listen to him, okay?"

Emily nodded as she took the money, nudging her brother to get him to move. The boy groaned, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning at his sister.

"Can't you just bring me a soda on your way back?" he whined, refusing to get up.

"No, I can't, stupid. Now move it." Emily rolled her eyes and grabbed his right arm to drag him out of his chair. Once he had risen to his feet under heavy complaints, she turned him around and pushed him towards the door. They stepped outside, and before she closed the door behind them, the girl grinned at her parents and winked.

Sharon closed her eyes and breathed a long sigh of relief. "Well, that wasn't so bad," Andy interrupted her brief prayer of thanks. She laughed, for the first time in two days feeling the tension truly fall off her shoulders. She squeezed his hand, tracing her fingers along his cheek and threading them through his unruly hair. For a long moment, Sharon stared at him, taking in his features, every inch of this face that was so dear to her. She traced the slight wrinkles that had started to appear at the corners of his eyes and attempted to smooth out the deep lines between his eyebrows. The trailed a single fingertip along the bridge of his nose, noticing the slight bump that had not been there years before.

"You promised to be careful," she finally whispered, her eyes glistening with tears as she allowed the fear she had held back so far to surface. "I was so scared that I would lose you again. I…" The words got stuck in her throat. She cast a helpless glance at him, hoping he would understand how deeply frightened she had been at the thought.

Andy tugged at her hand, gently urging her to lean down so he could slip an arm around her. It hurt like hell, but he ignored the pain, letting his fingers slide into her soft hair and drawing her closer until her head rested against his, cheek to cheek, and he could plant soft kisses against her neck. Her scent was familiar and calming, and he let himself enjoy her closeness for several heatbeats. She was right; it had been too damn close, and he was grateful to have come out of it alive and to be able to hold her once again.

"I know. I'm sorry I scared you, but I couldn't let anything happen to our girl," he rasped into her ear. She shivered in his arms, turning her face into his neck to inhale his scent and place a kiss against the soft spot right behind his ear.

"I know, and I will never be able to thank you enough for saving her. I'm just grateful to have both of you back." She rose slightly so that she was able to look into his eyes, both of her hands cupping his cheeks, her thumbs brushing back and forth over his skin.

They stared at one another for a long while, gentle smiles on their lips. Andy wanted nothing more than to feel her body right next to his, to envelop her in his arms and hold her close until they both drifted off to sleep. That would have to wait until he felt better, however. Even raising one arm to hold her hurt too much, and he had to let it drop down to the mattress again. It was frustrating to have her so close but not close enough, but maybe, if he played his cards right, he would get a chance to hold her close for a very long time, once they let him out of there.

"So, what are we gonna do now that we're all back together?" he asked her, keeping his tone carefully neutral.

Sharon sat up once again, taking one of his hands between both of hers, tracing the veins on its back as she thought about his question. There were so many things to consider, so many potential problems. She was still married, for one. And yet, there was only one answer she wanted to give him. The wise thing might be to walk away. Maybe it would even be the right thing to do. She had done that once, however, and she was not sure if she was capable of doing it again.

"I have no idea. All I know is that I don't want to let you go ever again," she finally said, her eyes glued to their joined hands as she continued her gentle caress.

"Then we will figure out how we can hold on. Together," he responded with a relieved smile. That had been what he had hoped for; a chance to see what they could be if they gave it a try.

"It's not going to be easy." Sharon looked up from their hands to meet his eyes, hoping to make him understand how much effort it would take for them to make it work, to get past all the obstacles their past and their present would put in their way. She needed to know that he was willing to face all that with her, because it was no longer just her. She had to think about Ricky and Emily, too. If they decided to do this, they had better succeed.

"I know. It never was with us, but this time I'm prepared to fight for you." He seemed to have read her mind, his expression conveying how serious he was, despite the bright grin that graced his lips.

"So am I," she replied after a moment, the three words no more than a whisper. They weren't the three words she had once said to him, the words she had not allowed him to return, but they held just as much meaning, if not more. They meant commitment, and loyalty, and determination to keep going even when the odds were against them.

The other words would follow, they knew. There were still so many things left unsaid, so many old wounds they would have to deal with. It would be a long way before they would get their happily ever after, but Sharon was convinced that they would get it.

She leaned down once again to place a soft, lingering kiss against Andy's lips, a promise of many more kisses yet to come.

 **~TBC~**


	15. Epilogue

**Everything I Failed To Be**

 **Epilogue**

* * *

 **Time:** June 2010

It was very late when Andy Flynn stepped into the quiet house and locked the door behind him. The hallway was basked in the soft glow of light from the living room at the far end. He took off his shoes and pushed them underneath the small table. He removed his gun from his belt and dropped it on the stairs on his way to the living room. When he stepped inside, he found the patio doors open and saw that the small lamps around the porch were switched on. That was where he found Sharon. She sat in one of the wide wicker chairs, her feet tucked underneath her body and a blanket wrapped around her. On the table next to her sat a glass of wine.

When she heard him approach, she closed her book at set it aside. She smiled as he leaned down for a lingering kiss. "Hey," he mumbled against her lips. "You didn't have to wait up for me."

Sharon slipped a hand behind his head, threading her fingers through the short hair she found there, and pulling him closer once again for another, deeper kiss. "Maybe not, but I missed you," she whispered, trailing soft kisses along his jaw and down the side of his neck.

He helped her to her feet so he could sit down in her chair. Once he was settled, she found her place on his lap, snuggling into him. She knew that he was not ready to go to bed yet, even though he was tired. It always took him a while to let go of the day, of the most recent case, of troubling images and thoughts. Over the last eleven years, Sharon had discovered that he seldom wanted to talk about it. Simply being with her, sitting in companionable silence and holding her close was what helped him most. In a little while, they would retreat to the bedroom to sleep – or maybe to find release of a different kind.

They had learned to enjoy every moment they had, to never take their time together for granted. They had done that in their previous marriages, and they had learned how quickly a life could be irrevocably changed by circumstances outside their control. The injury Andy had sustained while freeing Emily had only been one such event.

It had taken weeks for him to recover enough to be cleared for active duty. They had decided that Sharon and the children would stay with him while he had needed help. There had been no resistance from the kids, as the events leading up to their abrupt escape from their house had still been too present in their minds. Someone had broken into their home, and it had given all of them a bad feeling. It had not felt safe anymore. Even after the last of Connolly's people, including him and his sons, had been found and arrested, the feeling had lingered.

Sharing Andy's home had not been easy, either. In the beginning, he had been irritable and short tempered because his physical limitations had frustrated him. Then there had been some delayed fallout from the news that Andy was Emily's father. Once the initial shock of her abduction had worn off, the girl had given them a few tough weeks over it. No one had blamed her, but the situation had been difficult enough, even without her temper tantrums. For a little while, Ricky had acted out as well. As puberty had hit him full force, his moodiness had often turned against his sister, especially when his own father had missed yet another important event while hers was there every day.

It had been a period of adjustment for all of them, but at the end of it, they had realized that they were no longer willing to live without one another. Sharon's plan to sell her house and find another one for her and the kids had been modified. She had still sold the house, and they had moved in with Andy permanently. His dream of filling his house with the laughter of children and to share family meals at the large kitchen table had come true after all, even if it had not involved Nicole and Charlie.

Those relationships had only very recently started to improve. His son was still reluctant to give him another chance, but Nicole was slowly starting to open up to him. That was mostly Sharon's doing. She had reached out to his daughter several years ago, shortly before the ten year anniversary of his sobriety. She had convinced Nicole to attend the party Sharon had thrown for the event. It had been awkward and uncomfortable and she had not stayed very long, but it had been a start. His girl had seen with her own eyes that he was sober and that there were people who relied upon him. It had been a long, difficult road, and they were still trying to find their way, but it had become easier, less forced over the years. She had even introduced them to her new partner a few weeks earlier.

It had been Sharon who had helped him see that it did not have to be a bad thing that Dean had been married before and that he brought two sons into the relationship. Andy had had his doubts about it, but his wife had pointed out that some people were more than happy to be a parent to a child that was not their own. Of course she had been right.

Years ago, people had told him that he was insane for getting involved with a woman who was married to another man, a woman who brought two children into their relationship. Sure, one of those children had been his, but there had still been many arguments against being with her. He had not listened to any of them.

They had lived with the shadow of Jack Raydor hovering over them for over two years. Sharon had tried to get a divorce, but with Jack having vanished without a trace, it had been difficult to serve him the papers. She had been reluctant to go for service by publication, as that would have meant advertising her personal business all over town. Andy had understood. He had not minded waiting. It was not as if her lingering marriage had influenced their relationship a great deal. They had lived their lives, together. They had been happy, and for the most part they had not thought much about Jack.

He had returned a little over two years after his mysterious disappearance, surprised and outraged to find his house sold and his family gone. Only after Sharon had described to him in great detail what his actions had meant for them, what they had almost cost them, had he calmed down. The thought of how close they had come to losing Emily had shocked him, making him see how wrong he had been to first lie to his wife and then run away and leave her to deal with his mess. In the end, he had signed the divorce papers and had not sued her for half of what Sharon had gotten for the house. She had invested the complete proceeds in Ricky's and Emily's names, to be used once they went to college.

In the years following their divorce, Jack had been in and out of their lives. Even though the secret of Emily's parentage had been revealed, Jack had still been important to her. He had been her father for the first sixteen years of her life, even if he had not always been there. She loved him, despite his being a lousy father most of the time, and even though Andy had stepped into the void Jack had left behind. They had learned to share.

It was not just Emily who had found a second father in Andy. He had been the one Ricky had gone to for advice on girls. He had been the one to teach both her children how to drive, even if it gave their mother grey hair. He had been the one to glare at the first boy Emily had brought home until the poor boy had sworn to never lay a hand on the girl.

Andy had been right beside their mother when first Emily and then Ricky had gotten settled in their college dorms, and later when Emily had moved into her first apartment in New York. He had been the one to hold Sharon and dry her tears when she had cried about her babies leaving the nest. Andy was their father much more than Jack had ever been, but they loved both men, and Sharon was glad about that.

Andy had known that he wanted to marry Sharon even before he had gotten shot, but back then it had been a crazy fantasy that he had not considered to ever come true. He had bought the ring mere weeks after returning to full duty. He had seen it at a small jewellery store while they had investigated a murder, and it had been perfect. And yet, it had been another three years until he had finally proposed to her, once her divorce had been final and the dust had settled. Even years later, Andy still had trouble believing that she had actually said yes.

Over the years, they had often talked about whether or not they wanted to find a new house, something that was theirs; something that was closer to their work places, but in the end, they had all agreed that Andy's house was too beautiful to give up. It was not particularly big or luxurious, but it was more than enough for them, and it was home. When Ricky had moved out a few years ago, they had started to think about it again. With just the two of them, one of those nice condos in the city sounded really good. It would be much more convenient, considering the long hours they worked and the time they spent each day stuck in traffic. So far, they had not found the perfect place, but they were looking.

Sharon hummed quietly, happy and contend to have her husband with her for a little while. During the last two weeks, they had not seen each other all that much. First there had been that horrible Phillip Stroh case that had taken up a lot of his time and kept him at the office almost around the clock. Following that, Andy's team had been forced to deal with Deputy Chief Johnson's resignation and the subsequent vacuum her absence had left. Andy had helped Lieutenant Provenza out as much as possible to transition into the position of division head. They still doubted that it would be permanent, but so far no replacement had been found. The older Lieutenant hated the paperwork and the politics of the job, and yet Andy had his doubts that he would be happy if someone else got to take over at some point. Sharon could easily see how Provenza would like bossing people around, but he had a rather colorful history and did not like to play nice with others, and she doubted that the brass would want someone like that as the face of one of their elite divisions.

From what Andy had told her and especially from the time she had spent with his division while defending Deputy Chief Johnson in the lawsuit filed against her by Peter Goldman, she had gotten a good idea of how Pope and Taylor worked. She had also heard rumors about a change in how Major Crimes would approach their cases, and if that was implemented, they would have to replace Provenza. The old man would never stand for anything like that.

Sharon had gotten to know Andy's entire division quite well over the past year. Her partner Gavin Baker had originally taken on the Johnson case. The FID officer who was in charge of investigating the allegations made against Deputy Chief Johnson, Chief Pope, and the Major Crimes division was his friend, and she had asked him to help out. However, Gavin had met his new client once and decided that he would not be able to work with her.

As soon as the Chief and her husband had left his office, Gavin had stormed through Sharon's door and slumped down in the chair in front of her desk, sighing in exasperation and rolling his eyes dramatically. "I'm going to kill that woman. I know it. If I have to spend another hour with her, I'm going to kill her. If you are my friend, you're going to save me from spending the rest of my life in prison for bashing a police officer's head in."

Sharon had very slowly closed the file in front of her and studied her friend over the rim of her glasses. At first she had thought that he was being overly dramatic, but she had quickly realized that he was only partly kidding. After debating whether or not her marriage to one of Chief Johnson's Lieutenants would be a problem, they had decided that she would take over the case. She would only be representing Brenda Leigh, after all.

During the months that had followed that conversation, Sharon had frequently wondered why she had agreed so quickly to take the case. Deputy Chief Johnson was a stubborn, opinionated woman, who hated nothing more than people telling her how to do her job. When Sharon had complained to Andy about that, he had laughed long and hard before he had gently pointed out how much those things were true for her as well. That night, Andy had slept in the guest room. The following evening, Sharon had gone home early enough to prepare a romantic dinner to apologize for the way she had reacted. Spending a day with her client, having her husband's words at the back of her mind, she had realized that he had not been entirely wrong. She had made it up to him until the early hours of the morning, leaving both of them exhausted the next day, but incredibly happy.

Despite her frequent clashes with her client, Sharon had enjoyed working the case. It had meant seeing Andy much more frequently during the day, and it had not been easy to go back to the way things had been before once Brenda had been dropped from the lawsuit. She had missed the stolen moments between meetings and him working his cases, the quick coffee breaks or longer lunches when she had gone back to working her regular cases, and she had missed teasing Andy's grumpy partner on her way through the office. They still did not really like one another, but there was mutual respect between them, grown over the many years of caring for and worrying about the same man.

Only the week before, Sharon had returned to the PAB to look into the incident with Phillip Stroh. Andy had told her about it, worrying about what would happen to his boss after assaulting a suspect the way she had. Sharon had agreed to see what could be done to help. She had done it partly as a favor to her husband, and partly because she had come to genuinely respect the other woman. They might frustrate and annoy one another, but they both shared a profound sense of duty and a commitment to their jobs and the people they worked with.

Sharon had hoped to be able to ensure that Brenda could keep her job, but that had not been possible. It had been a long shot to begin with, but once she had gotten the whole story from everyone who had been present, she had known that it would not happen. She was reluctant to call it luck, but the fact that Stroh had broken into Brenda's home and attacked her and the material witness she had been keeping an eye on had helped her make a deal with Chief Pope. It had proven that Deputy Chief Johnson had not gone after an innocent man, that her actions, while rash and reckless, had not been completely random. They had lead to the arrest of a dangerous serial killer. In the end, they had agreed that Brenda would not be fired. She had resigned voluntarily with no disciplinary actions taken against her. That way, she had been able to get a job with the District Attorney's office and move on with her life.

It was the material witness Brenda had saved that was currently on Andy Flynn's mind. He was a DCFS problem, but with everything he had been through, the kid had some serious issues. Rusty had been placed in foster care the day after he and Brenda had been attacked by Stroh, putting him out of the minds of Andy and his colleagues. He was a witness, but they had handed the case off to the DA's office, so he was their witness now. Major Crimes was done with that case until it went to court. At least that was what they had thought.

Sharon gently caressed her husband's cheek, tracing her finger over the skin that was rough with his five o'clock shadow. He looked tired and worried, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tense. She place gentle kisses against his neck, along his jaw, on his chin, before she moved on to his lips. She slowly drew him into a lazy duel of lips and tongues, not passionate, but rather a tender expression of love, and trust, and belonging. When they parted for air, she laid her head against his chest once again, her arms wrapping around his middle as she waited for him to talk about what was on his mind.

His voice rumbled deep in his chest, resonating through her body in a familiar, pleasant way when he finally began to talk.

"You remember the kid who witnessed Stroh burying that body?" he asked, waiting for her slight nod before he went on. "Patrol dropped him off at the office today. Apparently, the little psycho ran away from his foster home a few times and now they don't want to take him back anymore. He's been sitting in the Murder Room all day, sulking and yelling."

Sharon remembered the boy. She had briefly spoken to him when she had looked into Brenda's case. He had been so full of anger, so ready to expect the worst of everyone around him. It had broken her heart to think about what he must have gone through in his short life. She had wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him until he would belief that the world was not only bad, but she had suppressed her maternal instincts. Rusty was a skittish boy; he would not have appreciated it one bit. He did not strike her as someone who could accept kindness easily. That was not surprising, considering that he had probably learned that most people expected something in return for their kindness.

"What are you going to do with him? And why was he left with you, anyway? Isn't DCFS responsible for finding him a place to stay?" What were a group of homicide detectives supposed to do with a homeless teenager? Sure, he was a material witness in a murder trial, but first and foremost he was a child without a family.

Andy shrugged, his eyes clouded with sadness. "I don't know. I guess the Chief had them add us as a contact to his file or something. His social worker is trying to find him a placement, but it's not gonna be easy. They can't put him in a group home, because he's a flight risk, and they had trouble finding a foster home that's willing to take him and able to handle him. For now, he's sleeping on a cot in the break room and Julio is keeping an eye on him tonight, but that's not a permanent solution. I guess if they can't find another place for him to go by tomorrow night, we'll have to put him in juvenile detention for the time being."

Sharon sat up straight, staring at him in shock. "Andy, you can't do that. He's a scared, traumatized child. You can't just put him in a cell until he testifies in that trial. And then what? Once he's stopped being useful, he'll be on his own again. Is that it? Is that fair? Didn't Chief Johnson promise him to find his mother? What happened to that?" She felt rage burn through her veins, unwilling to believe that anyone could so callously dismiss a child.

His hands gently grasped her upper arms, stroking up and down in a calming rhythm. "Hey, don't blame me! I don't like it any more than you do. I know it's not fair, and I know that he deserves better, but there's not a lot we can do about it. Of course we'll try to find his mother, but do you honestly believe that she's gonna be much use to him? She dumped him at a zoo, and she hasn't bothered to come looking for him since. Call me cynical, but I don't see her being able to take care of him, even if we find her."

Andy spoke quietly, his tone tinged with regret and sadness. "Maybe Cynthia will find him a foster home. She hasn't given up yet. It's just not easy to find a place for a kid like Rusty. Foster families don't grow on trees, and there are even fewer that are willing to take on a really tough case like that. We're running out of time here. If Cynthia can't find something by tomorrow night, we'll have to think of alternatives and there really aren't that many. We can't babysit him indefinitely."

Sharon knew that he was right. She had seen enough of Rusty to know that it would be hard to find a home for him, that he would have difficulties no matter where they put him. She also realized that, as a material witness, he had to be protected. Stroh might be in prison, but they still needed Rusty to testify against him, which meant that he had to be available to the prosecution and the defense. They could not risk losing him or the case against Stroh would fall apart. Locking him up certainly was the easiest, most convenient solution.

He was just a child, however. Sharon could not get his expression out of her head. He had been rude and dismissive, pushing everyone away, but she had seen the vulnerability beneath the surface. He had tried so hard to hide it, to hide the pain and disappointment, the loneliness and fear. When would that boy finally get a chance to let down his guard, to stop worrying about his safety, his next meal or where he would sleep? When would he get a chance to simply be a child, to grow and to learn and to figure out who he wanted to be?

Sharon thought about her own children, about Andy's kids. Their lives had not always been easy, but they had always been safe, and they had always been loved. They had never needed to go hungry or to worry about a roof over their heads. As far as she was concerned, every child deserved these basic things. Of course, reality was a lot less kind, but that did not change the fact that it made her feel bad, that she wished she could do something about it.

"Can't we?" she questioned, looking up at him with a steady gaze, anxious to see his reaction to her spontaneous idea.

He frowned at her, confusion clouding his expression. "Can't we what?" There was a slight note of suspicion in his tone as he stared at her.

"Look, it doesn't have to be indefinitely, but maybe he could stay with us until a more permanent solution can be found. One that does not include bars on the windows and locks on the doors."

The moment he had heard that tone of voice and saw the way she looked at him with her bottom lip tucked between her teeth, Andy knew that he would end up agreeing. There was simply no way he could say no to his wife when she did that. It was not as if he was against her suggestion. On the contrary. He felt bad for the kid. He deserved a break, and it did not appear as if he would get one, unless they helped him out. Still, Andy wanted to make sure they would not take on too much, that they were prepared for what it would mean to bring the kid home with them.

"Are you sure we're ready for that? He's not like Ricky or Emily at that age. We can't just leave him at home and trust him to take himself to school and back. Right now, he's in emergency care. One of us will have to take him to work and keep an eye on him all day. Are you sure that's what you want?" He already knew her answer, just as he knew his own decision. It would be inconvenient and annoying as hell, but they would do it.

"I know it's not going to be easy, but don't you think that too many people already pushed this boy away because keeping him wasn't easy? He's not an obstacle, Andy. He's a child and he needs someone to be on his side. Let that be us."

It was hard to believe, but Andy was convinced that his wife was already getting attached to the boy before he had even set foot into their home. It should not surprise him, however. Sharon was a great lawyer, and a fantastic boss and mentor, but above all that she was a wonderful mother. In the courtroom she might be tough as nails and cold as ice, but when it came to her kids, she had the biggest, warmest heart. He had seen it with Ricky and Emily for many years, but more recently, she had also extended that love and warmth to Nicole. He knew that she also cared about Charlie, even though they had not had an opportunity to meet yet. He did not doubt that there would be room for one more in Sharon's heart, and if he was honest with himself, he had already started to grow a little fond of Rusty himself, even if he was annoying.

"Yeah, okay. I'll call Cynthia first thing tomorrow and we'll see what she thinks about it. We'll keep him until something better comes up."

Sharon gave him a happy smile, her eyes sparkling as she gazed at him. Her fingers trailed along his jaw before she slipped both hands into the short hair at the back of his head and pulled him towards her. Their lips met in another tender kiss. When they pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his, lingering in his space, their breaths still mingling as they revelled in their closeness.

They were both well into middle-age, they had raised wonderful children, and they were approaching a point in their lives where retirement was not merely a vague shadow on the distant horizon anymore. Their lives had been eventful and fulfilling. They had started out with big dreams, and they had failed many times along the way to be the people they had wanted to be. They had never given up, however. They had struggled, and they had kept fighting until they had woken up one day to realize that all their failures had led them to the biggest success of all. They had found one another, they had loved one another as well as they possibly could, and they had shared that love with their children. They could spare some of that love for another child, and if that situation ended up not being temporary, they would deal with that, too.

 **~THE END~**

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 **So, this is it. Many, many thanks to all of you for staying with me to the very end and for your wonderful support through favorites, follows, feedback, and all your love on the Twitter and the Facebook. A very special 'thank you' to all the amazing people who took the time to faithfully comment on every single chapter. You are rock stars! All of you!**


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